


Descend into chaos

by EternalSinner



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Albeit very unwilling, Angst, BDSM, Breathplay, Choking, Consent, F/F, Gunplay, Pretty Lena and Amelie centric, Smut, Talon Tracer, because consent is my biggest fetish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-05-14 05:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19266376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalSinner/pseuds/EternalSinner
Summary: Tracer is captured by Talon. Her memories and personality are left intact, instead they outfit her with an undying loyalty to Widowmaker and a fierce desire to protect her, creating a deadly duo on the battlefield. With no chance of resisting she reluctantly follows her new programming.





	1. Free will

**Author's Note:**

> My first work in a long time. Tips are welcome. English isn't my first language and the urge to use phrases and synonyms from my own language is overwhelming. (Is 'her x disappeared like snow before the sun' a thing in English???)

_Intoxicated by your countenance_

_I descend into chaos tonight_

 

She’s in a big hall, some kind of cafeteria. The walls are stark white and there’s no decoration whatsoever. Her heart is thrumming so hard in her ears she has trouble hearing what Doctor Moira O’deorain is saying. Words like ‘artificial enhancement ’, ‘co-dependency’ and ‘emotional reliance’ are being said in such a casual manner, yet they only add to the growing panic in her mind. There’s other people in the room, minor agents of Talon she doesn’t know, and major ones whose presence would put her on high alert at any other time. Yet all she can do is numbly listen to those words.  Words that apply to her now.

“Now that you’ve essentially been rendered harmless, you’re welcome to wander around the perimeter. Though you won’t get any access to locked doors. Those include the exits, of course. I doubt, however, that you’ll want to leave.” Tracer thinks she can see the ghost of a grin in Doctor O’deorain’s face when she adds the last bit. 

She made a mistake. She was captured. She remembers that much. She thought she’d be interrogated, or tortured for information. But not… this.

They changed her, like they did to Widowmaker. Except she’s different. Where they silenced the feelings of Widowmaker they amplified and redirected hers. She remembers tubes and the beeps of monitors in the background. Muted voices and shifting shadows coming and going. The realization of what they’ve done to her is sinking in. Everything is reeling and she’s panicking. _Love._ She thinks. _They forced me to love her._ It’s ridiculous and inhumane. Perhaps it’s more like an addiction rather than love. Or maybe an obsession. There were a lot more scientific terms used, and she got a whole lot of details, but she barely registered them. It’s ironic that they chose her of all people, she thinks. Even before this she had been starting to feel _something_ for her nemesis. Affection or something else entirely, she doesn’t know. It wasn’t like this though. This urge. She can feel a strong feeling blossom in her chest whenever she thinks about her. She has to be kept save, at any cost.

The feeling overwhelms her and she tries to focus on something, anything else. Her eyes dart around the spacious room. She sees Sombra, who is one of the few major agents whose real name she doesn’t know. The girl seems to be looking at her with something resembling pity. Sombra shifts her gaze away and instead looks at the red haired doctor with mild disdain.  

A door opens somewhere behind them.

“Ah, Lacroix,” the doctor starts, and Lena’s head reels at the name. “Good that you’re here. Your new companion is ready.” Lena turns her head to look at her.

_Ah._

_So this is where her free will dies._

The rest of the world might as well be black and white.

She begins to make a noise but is cut off when she chokes on her own voice.

Widowmaker seems to shine brighter in her vision. Everything in the room pales. Not because she’s such an extraordinary sight to behold, but to Lena Widowmaker is the only thing that looks _alive._ Feelings blossom in her chest. Adoration, loyalty. Everything seems right for a moment, like a puzzle coming together. At that moment something inside of her changes forever. And it feels _so_ good. Then, she realizes what’s happening and she’s disgusted, terrified. The urge to run over to the woman and ask to be held is overwhelming, but she feels Moira’s sharp gaze on her, analyzing every move she makes. The last thing she wants is to embarrass herself further in front of these people. No, she must regain her composure. She can’t be weak.

Confused but determined she tries to push these unnatural feelings down. It doesn’t work very well, but she manages to reduce her physical reaction to a twitch.

The other woman seems to be steadily avoiding her gaze, choosing to look somewhere right behind Lena instead, and makes her way over to the rest of the group.

“That’s good then,” Widowmaker finally responds. Lena’s heart beats faster at the sound of her voice.

“I’m sure you’ll find her an efficient partner. She’ll be most effective in combat, and you no longer have to worry about someone sneaking up on you. She’s another pinnacle of science, like yourself. A breakthrough, if you will.” 

Sombra snorts.

“I’ve read the file, doctor. I do not need you to repeat it. It would only serve to stroke your ego,” Widowmaker says.

The doctor looks displeased and swallows whatever she was going to say. Instead she smiles. Lena thinks it’s unpleasant.

“Good.” Moira responds curtly. Then, “Remember your place, Lacroix. What has been done can easily be reapplied.”

Lena thinks she can see Widowmaker’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second. She notices these things now, she supposes.

Widowmaker doesn’t respond. Instead she focuses on Lena and makes a gesture with her hand.

“Come,” she says.

Lena wishes she could resist, but there’s something strong that’s tugging at the edges of her mind, and that something coaxes her to follow the other woman. Demurely she begins to walk. She looks over her shoulder one last time. Sombra definitely has a look of pity on her face now, Moira just looks pleased with the results. Both are equally worrisome. The doors close behind her and hurriedly she catches up to Widowmaker’s steady pace. She doesn’t know what to say. She wishes she could make a joke and that the other woman would try to punch her, like old times. The weight of what happened to her and what that means still hasn’t settled in her mind completely. Her programming is ever present, a constant hum in the back of her head. It’s content now. She’s in the proximity of her target and her target is safe. But it’s still there, edging her on, reminding her of that what is the most important.

Surprisingly, it’s Widowmaker who breaks the silence.

“I’ll show you to our chambers.”

“Oh,” Is all Lena manages to choke out. _Our._

She follows Widowmaker through endless corridors, rooms and hallways. The ceiling is high and the walls are made of thick concrete. Everything is gray or black, dimly lit in pale light.

“We’re here” Widowmaker says unceremoniously and stops at a large door.

Chambers. This barely qualifies as a space eligible for living in. It’s spacious, sure. But it looks more like a prison. There’s no windows, for starters, and the door is heavy and metallic. The insides of the room are a dark gray, lit by the same pale light as the corridors. There’s two beds, one on each side of the room, two desks and closets and finally a door that leads to what seems like a small bathroom. It’s a horrible place to be, let alone live in.

“Has this always been your room?” Lena asks weakly.

“Yes, the extra bed was moved in during your… procedure.”

The confirmation that Widowmaker has been living in this kind of place makes Lena’s stomach churn. Have they no idea of basic human needs at Talon?

 But then again, they quite possibly don’t see her as a human here. _A scientific breakthrough._ That’s what Widowmaker is to them. It’s what she is now too. Fear rises in her belly and she’s beginning to panic.

She looks at the other woman, who still isn’t making eye contact. Preferring to stare at some papers on her desk instead.

“Look at me, _please,_ ” Lena blurts out desperately. She needs come kind of affirmation.

For a long moment Widowmaker doesn’t move. Then she slowly turns and raises her head, looking Lena in the eyes.

It’s almost too much, too intense. The urge to rush over to her, to protect overwhelms her again.

The expression is stoic, but underneath it she can see _something_ resembling an emotion. Sadness? Not quite. Widowmaker seems to understand her turmoil because her expression softens somewhat.

I did not want this for you, either,” she says softly, still meeting Lena’s eyes. Somehow this makes everything worse.

“Then do something about it.” Lena begs, tears begin to well up in her eyes and ice forms in her chest. “Please.” She adds shakily. She knows it’s useless, her enemy has no reason to help her. Still, it’s her only option.

“I cannot,” Widowmaker simply says. It comes out a little strained.

Tracer’s will breaks and she outright starts to cry now. The shock of what happened is disappearing along with the numb and dazed feeling she had. Instead the dread of the reality of what is to come is settling in. She’ll be deployed by Talon. She’ll have to fight against _Overwatch_ , her friends. Judging by her artificially generated feelings there’s nothing she can do about it. One glance at Widowmaker is all she needs to understand she can’ resist this. She falls to her knees and stares at the ground. There’s only one solution, one way out of this. Silently she strengthens her resolve.

She looks up at Widowmaker.

“Then end me,” she says determinedly.

It’s almost unnoticeable but Tracer sees the other’s eyes widen a fraction.

“No, I will not do that.” Her voice is even more strained now.

“Why _not?_ ” She almost screams the last word. “God knows you’ve tried, God knows you _want to_. _”_ Something stirs in Widowmaker’s when she says the last bit. She knows she’s right, Widowmaker gets pleasure out of killing. Some sick part of her wants to be the one that gives her that. She forces the thought away. “I don’t want to be Talon’s toy. I don’t want _this.”_ She gestures at herself. “So please, do us both a favor and end me.”

“No. You must give up on this,” she insists.

Frustration overcomes Tracer. It blinds her and fuels her desperation. “ _Then I’ll make you,_ ” she hisses and lunges forwards. With her speed and blink abilities it takes her no time to reach Widowmaker at all. She readies a punch, preparing for the retaliation that is to come.

But then something clicks in her head.

Her movements freeze.

She can’t land the blow. She’s paralyzed.

For a moment she’s confused, her fist still frozen midair. Then it hits her.

They did this to her. It’s the result of her programming. It makes sense, she supposes. If her main goal is to keep Widowmaker save then harming her is counterproductive to her goal.

The other woman apparently saw this coming, as she’s standing unmoving and unfazed, watching her intently.

Defeated, Tracer drops to her knees and begins to sob. “I don’t want this” she repeats over and over again. To herself? To Widowmaker? She doesn’t know. All she knows is that she wants out of this nightmare. But she knows she won’t.

To her surprise a hand gently covers her own, the feeling is electrifying and sends shivers down her arm. Widowmaker kneels before her and uses her other hand to move Lena’s hair out of her face. What should be a comforting movement seems stiff and awkward coming from the assassin.

Lena looks up from the ground and meets her eyes.

“I can’t do this,” she chokes out.

“You can,” Widowmaker responds simply.

“I can’t.” Lena insists. “I’m losing myself. I’m a slave to this… this feeling. The real me will _vanish_.”

“Don’t let it consume you. Consume it instead.”

“What?” She asks confusedly.

“Channel it. Let it become a force to be reckoned with. Don’t become its weapon. Weaponize _it_ instead.” There’s traces of something in her voice. Empathy? Affection? Lena doesn’t know. But there is _something_ alright.

“…It’s what I did, too,” Widowmaker softly adds.

Realization hits Lena like a brick. _Widowmaker went through this too._

Images of the woman scared, alone and crying on the ground in this Godforsaken room flash through her mind. Rage and a fierce urge to protect course through her, and she’s not sure if it’s entirely the programming. It gives her some kind of strength she didn’t know she still possessed. She has to go on. She has to survive. Widowmaker is surviving too, after all.

_Overwatch might find me. Mercy can undo this._

Hope blossoms in her chest.

Yes. She’ll just have to last until then.  And she’s not alone. That hand is still on top of hers, burning through her skin. The cruel and stoic Widowmaker is here, comforting her of all things. She thinks of the dance they always shared on the battlefield. Blow after blow, always aiming for the kill but never quite going through with it. It gave her a thrill, and if Widowmaker’s reactions were anything to go by, so did she. She supposes that if it had to be any Talon member to be paired up with, she’s glad it’s the feared Widowmaker.

She gathers her wits and smiles through teary eyes.

“Guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together from now on, aren’t we, love?”

Something seems to shift in Widowmaker’s posture. Her eyes turn intense, her body is rigid and suddenly the nails of the hand covering her own are digging painfully hard into her.

“W-widow?” Lena gasps.

The expression on her face is possessive. Despite all of their battles it’s the most expressive she’s ever seen the spider. She smiles a predatory smile.

“Yes, _cherie,_ ” she purrs. “I’ll make sure to take good care of you.” The words send a shiver down Lena’s spine, it’s more pleasant than she wants to admit. She’s frozen in her spot, powerless to do anything but listen. She wonders what happened to the almost emphatic Widowmaker of a minute ago. It occurs to her that the woman probably doesn’t have very good control over her emotions, with them being foreign to her, and she’s overwhelmed and being led by them. Though she doesn’t quite understand why her emotions are shifting now.

Nails are dug in even deeper, drawing blood. Lena yells out in pain.

Widowmaker’s eyes widen and she sucks in a breath. She quickly withdraws her hand. She seems to steady herself and her eyes turn that dull stoic expression again.

The moment is over as quickly as it begun.

“At any rate,” she says almost casually, though Lena thinks she can hear a tremble in her voice. “You should get some sleep. Your body needs to adjust and it’s already late. Sleeping is what I’m going to do, at any rate,” she gets up a little too quickly and proceeds to walk to the other side of the room.

Lena adapts to the change of pace and realizes she has no idea what time it is, and that she’s very very tired. She watches the other woman gather sleeping garments from her closet and she begins to change.

Hurriedly Lena looks away. Too awkward. Instead she wipes the tears from her eyes and gets up herself.

She decides to do the same and rummages through her own closet to find gray pajama shirts and bottoms. It’ll do. She quickly changes into them. (And refuses to check if Widowmaker is looking at her.)

She follows Widowmaker to the bathroom and they brush their teeth together. The absurdity of the situation makes her want to joke about it, but after the strange mood swing the purple woman had earlier she doesn’t dare anymore.

Widowmaker doesn’t say a word to her either.

Awkwardly she gets into her own bed, watching Widowmaker do the same on the other side of the room. 

“Goodnight,” she says softly.

For a long moment she thinks her words will go unanswered and it hurts more than she’s comfortable with.

“Goodnight,” comes the response after what seems like an eternity.

Lena smiles despite herself, a warm feeling spreading through her. She reminds herself of a puppy being greeted by its master. The thought sours things for her and the warm feelings simply vanishes.

She wants to cry again.

 

 

 


	2. Inside my soul

I feel it burning through my veins  
It's driving me insane  
The fever is rising, I'm going under  
Memories flash before my eyes  
I'm losing time  
The poison is killing me, taking over

 

The next days all go by in a blur.

She wakes up early every morning. Although every morning Widowmaker is already awake, seated behind her desk reading papers. They change their gray nightwear for black pants and shirts, the latter of which has the Talon logo on the shoulder. The clothing is only slightly better fitting than the pajamas.

They have breakfast with other Talon agents, who politely pretend they are comfortable with the two of them. They both don’t eat much. Her appetite is gone, and her body seems to need less sustenance now. She assumes it’s the same for Widowmaker.

Then, it’s time for training. They train in a large hall with soft mats and an ever higher ceiling than in the corridors. It’s filled with other agents of various ranks and specialties. The first days they train separately. Training is good. During training she can forget. During training she can pretend she’s OK and fighting Talon like usual. Her abilities are enhanced and she’s even quicker on her feet now. It takes some time getting used to, though. In the beginning she can’t keep up with the speed of her own body and she trips and falls a number of times. She eventually gets the hang of it, though.

She dashes past the Talon field agents at lightning speed, it’s almost like a dance, she supposes. Though it’s a pale shadow compared to what she shared with _her._ She shoots them easily, her newly outfitted blasters set to nonlethal. They fall to the ground like flies, grunting in pain. At one point they crowd in on her and for a moment it looks like they’ll get to her. But before they can even touch her she resorts to hand to hand combat and knocks the one closest to her so hard up the jaw she thinks she can hear it break. The rest follows suit. Mere moments later the last one standing falls to the ground as well, after being whacked in the face with her blaster.

As he drops to the ground she locks eyes with Widowmaker, who’s just shot her last moving target herself. She watches quietly, no expression present on her face. A sense of pride swells inside Lena. She likes being watched by her. Then again she now likes anything Widowmaker does. She tries to push down the feelings and focus on her job, quickly breaking eye-contact. Anything to resist that urge, to fight back.

The next day they’re assigned to train together.

Moira and Reaper are watching from the sidelines. It makes her nervous. The scenario is simple. Widowmaker is caught in close quarter combat and has to trade in her patient sniping for quickly paced shooting. Tracer is supposed to intercept anyone who gets too close. It sounds easy enough in theory.

In reality it’s a mess.

The second her brain registers the potential danger Widowmaker is in (for the Talon agents will maybe not kill her, but they’ll certainly hurt her) her brain seems to short circuit and she can’t focus at all. Her normally calculated behavior turns into an instinct fuelled suicidal rampage. Widowmaker has to be protected at all costs. She can’t keep an overview of the battle. It doesn’t take long until she’s kicked so hard in the stomach she crumples to the ground. Distracted by her unfortunate demise, Widowmaker tries to help her but the heap of oncoming agents proves too much. Instead she receives a blow to the head herself and before she can do something she’s shot in the stomach with one of those nonlethal, yet awfully painful blasts. When she sees what’s happening Tracer loses herself and with that any tactical skills she may have had in the past. _Protect._ She screams and charges towards the other woman, missing how an agent comes for her from the sides. As she’s hit pain shoots through her side and everything goes white.

_Pathetic._

When they’re both in the infirmary roughly twenty minutes later they avoid eye-contact with one another.

Doctor O’deorain is there and it’s clear she’s disappointed in the both of them. She’s not very gentle when she injects the healing nano machines into their arms and every word she says is subtly condescending.

“You’ll have to be reconfigured,” she concludes finally, directing her attention to Lena. Her stomach feels like lead at those words.

She begins to protest but Moira interrupts her.

“Right now you simply aren’t functioning optimally, as I’m sure you’ll agree.”

She’s right. That was horrible and pathetic. She falls silent and hangs her head. The thought of more tubes and more poison makes panic rise in her belly. She’ll lose more of herself.

“Give her some time, doctor,” Widowmaker says from the bed next to her. It comes as a surprise to Lena, who glances at her. “It took me time as well, to get used to the changes in my body. They can be quite… challenging to adjust to. You let me practice until I settled properly as well, don’t waste resources on something that fixes itself overtime,” the woman continues.

Moira’s eyes narrow the slightest bit as she contemplates this possibility. For a moment he stares at Widowmaker hard, as if trying to gauge what’s going on in her mind.

“Very well,” she finally says, and Lena feels relief washing over her. “But I’ll hold you responsible if she messes up again. In fact, I’ll give you three days to help her adjust. First field operation scheduled for you both begins then.” With that she nods, wishes them a good day and simply walks away.

Lena turns to face the spider and smiles weakly. She’s met with a serious expression.

“You best work hard, cherie. Or it’s not going to be pleasant for either of us,” she says and shifts on the bed, winching in pain.

Lena’s programming doesn’t take well to being reprimanded by the other woman, and guilt and shame wash over her. She’ll try harder. She has to be better, no, _perfect._ Otherwise she’s risking both of their lives.

It takes a couple of hours before they can leave the infirmary. Their damage was minimal enough that they can be fully operational within such a short time span. They have dinner quietly, although Tracer has even less of an appetite than before. Afterwards they go to their shared room and wait.

It surprised her how often Widowmaker simply does _nothing._ She didn’t exactly expect her to have hobbies or something, but when she’s not eating, sleeping or training she sometimes simply exists and nothing more, staring into the distance seemingly lost in herself. It would have bothered her more, perhaps driven her insane, if she hadn’t been outfitted by Talon with the same increased patience and tolerance for not having any mental stimulation. In the moments they’re not busy she has little to no problem losing herself in her own thoughts. In fact, she might just prefer it over the other more bustling places in the building.

This time though, Widowmaker definitely seems to be waiting for something. What she’s waiting for Lena has no idea. But Widowmaker sits there on the bed opposing her, and instead of sitting perfectly still like usual she’s fidgeting and occasionally shifting her position. She even glances over to Lena from time to time. Not knowing what to do with this information she copies the other woman and stares at the opposing wall, disappearing into her own thoughts instead.

She wants to improve but she doesn’t know how. Even now her conditioning is urging her on. She’s not close enough to her target. _Never close enough._ She forces that thought away. She’s constantly resisting being swept away with the current that’s threatening to overtake her and leave nothing of her former self behind. She can’t let that happen, no matter how tempting it is. She has to tame this urge somehow.

No. Not tame.

_Channel._

She’s been swimming against the current with all her might, instead of swimming along and mastering the stream.

“I’m scared,” she blurts out. “Of what’s inside my head.” Widowmaker stops staring into the distance and looks her way questioningly, seemingly urging her to go on.

“It’s suffocating me. I can’t _breathe.”_ Her voice sounds pained. “I feel like I’m drowning and  I can’t fight it.”

It does feel like that. Like she’s drowning, endlessly on the edge of death but never quite dying completely. But if she can just _swim._

“Teach me,” she finally says. “Teach me how to channel it instead of fighting it, then.”

Something intangible flashes over Widowmaker’s expression. Lena thinks it might be relief.

Widowmaker gets up from her position on the bed.

“Very well,” she says. “Follow me.”

After a long walk through dazzling corridors they arrive at the training hall again. Except there’s no one now and the hall is only dimly lit by a single light on the ceiling. Widowmaker takes her to the middle of one of the sparring grounds and stands opposite of her.

“I want you to punch me,” she says simply.

Lena’s eyes widen, the thought alone seems preposterous to her. A stark contrast to their fights mere days ago.

“I… I can’t,” she responds demurely.

“I know. That’s why I want you to do it.”

“That makes no sense!” Lena all but yells.

“When I was first activated,” Widowmaker starts and Lena shudders at both her tone and choice of words. “I had very little control over my new…. impulses.” She begins to circle around Lena as she talks.

“As you have no doubt read in my files, the only time I feel truly alive is when I kill. Talon implemented this in me.” Her voice becomes lower.

“In the beginning I attacked everyone that came close in a desire to fulfill that need, I was acting on instinct. I killed a large number of Talon operatives because of it.” Lena shivers at the thought. “I was punished and sedated each time but I would not stop.” Her eyes seem to turn a shade darker as she drawls out each word.

“I craved it, you see. I didn’t care about anything else. Not shame, not guilt. Nothing. All I wanted was the moment I could feel their pulse end when I held them in my hands.” Lena swallows hard as she moves around her own axis, following Widowmaker with her eyes and body. “It’s exquisite. Pure ecstasy.” Lena trembles at the way the other’s words sound. Imagines killing feeling that good, wonders how exactly it feels for the other woman. She sucks in a breath at the thought.

“Finally, they put me in isolation. I can go without sleep, food and water for a long time, you see, so I had a _lot_ of time to contemplate. I was forced to stay awake, too. Noise would blast over the speakers if I closed my eyes too long. It was maddening. It drove me insane. I paced around the room, I screamed, cried, beat the wall until my knuckles were bruised and bleeding but they would not let me out.” Her gaze is hard now, but unrelenting.

“A part of me died in there. It might have been their conditioning that changed my brain, but in there I changed at an anatomical level. I’m not sure it was their intention, I think perhaps they just wanted to punish me again and hopefully tire me out, but I found myself there again.”

She stops her circling around Tracer and steps closer to her instead, looking at her with an unreadable expression on her face.

“I overcame my own instincts. I learned to wait. I channeled what I craved into a weapon, drawing out the moment of death until it is perfect. I became the patient, effective sniper they needed me to be.”

She pauses before continuing.

“I need you to do the same, Tracer. Overcome your instincts and channel them into a weapon only when you need it. Learn to be patient. I need you to tell yourself it is okay to attack me, overcome that blockade in your mind.”

She meets eyes with Lena, who has paled at her words. The story sets her stomach aflame with rage at everyone who helped do this to Widowmaker. The tortured woman in that story who’s now in front of her, looking at her like she’s the only thing of importance in the room. Lena doesn’t think she could take her eyes of her if she wanted to.

“Now, I said attack me,” she says casually and lunges forward.                      

Lena is startled but manages to dodge her incoming punch and rolls to the side. Before she can get up she hears Widowmaker’s footsteps close in behind her. Without thinking she turns around and attempts to punch her.

It doesn’t work.

She freezes again. Her brain screams at her for even attempting to do so. She’s fighting with herself so much she forgets the ongoing fight just a moment too long. Too late she sees the fist coming for her face. She attempts to dodge but is too slow. The fist hits the side of her jaw and she reels back, grunting in pain.

She stumbles but manages to keep herself on her feet. It occurs to her that it doesn’t hurt as much as it normally would. Apparently her pain tolerance has been increased as well.

“Again,” Widowmaker demands and comes for her a second time. This time she manages to see it coming and dodges more gracefully. The spider follows her movement and chases after her. Lena blinks around her target and bounces from one leg to another. She doesn’t dare attempting an attack on her own volition, but maybe she can retaliate. She anticipates the next few blows and dodges them easily. When a kick comes she avoids it and jumps closer, attempting another blow.

Again, she fails.

Perhaps if she had more time she might have _grazed_ the other woman’s body with the lamest punch in history. But Widowmaker doesn’t give her time and jams an elbow into her side. This time she loses balance and she stumbles to the ground. She falls onto her stomach, catches herself with her hands and quickly rolls over onto her back. Before she can get up, however, Widowmaker jumps on top of her and straddles her hips.

“ _Again,”_ she hisses as she punches her in the face. Lena covers her face with her arms to avert the next series of blows.

She tries to get herself to return the favor, but her brain won’t let her. All she can do is protect herself. The growing pain is making her desperate.

“Please stop!” She screams. Widowmaker only laughs. It’s a mocking laugh. Her relentless attacks continue without mercy.

Something hot and white starts to build inside Tracer. It’s blinding her, taking over her mind. Whatever it is it’s fighting with the artificial instincts in her mind.

_Channel it. Overcome it._

The words repeat itself over and over again in her mind.

Memories of their previous fights flash through her mind. All the blows she’s received and all the ones she returned. What did she feel like again?

_Alive._

Right. She never wanted to admit it to herself, never wanted to acknowledge it. It wasn’t appropriate after all. But it’s the truth. Their fights were exhilarating, they were _fun._ She loved the danger, the risks and even the pain that came with their dance.

But now? Now it’s all messed up. They were each other’s equals. A pair of dancers. Now it’s all skewered.

Finally she recognizes the feeling building up in her.

_Rage._

Not just at Widowmaker. No, also at her own incompetence.

They can add to her whatever they want but they can’t change who she is at the core, they can only built further on top of that. Part of who she was liked their fights and misses it now. She’ll not settle for whatever Talon wants her to be, she’ll rise above it instead.

Because this?

_This isn’t her._

Something clicks.

Time seems to unravel itself as she’s jolted back to the present.

Before she can realize what’s she’s consciously doing she grabs the next punch with her own hand and uses the momentum to yank Widowmaker forward. She musters up all her strength, twists Widowmaker’s arm and jams her knee up into her stomach at full force.

Widowmaker gasps in pain and coils her body. Tracer uses the moment to push her to the side and turns the both of them over. She pins the other’s hands to the ground with her own. Now she’s the one on top.

She’s panting, they both are. Underneath her Widowmaker’s eyes shine brilliantly. She smiles up at her. Something tightens in Lena and feels her conditioning hum pleasantly in reaction.

“Good,” the older woman says after catching her breath. “Very good.”

She shifts underneath Tracer, getting into a more comfortable position. Lena vaguely notices the friction, pushes the thought aside quickly. “I knew you had it in you,” Widowmaker says and it sounds almost soft.

Lena grins back, proud of her accomplishment and pleased with the recognition.

“Yeah, well there’s even more where that came from, love!” She responds and promptly lands another blow square in the others face. Something tugs at the back of her mind but she manages to silence it. She’s in control now.

For the first time she feels like herself again.

Widowmaker makes a ridiculous expression at being punched. She clearly didn’t see that coming, Lena thinks.

She recovers quickly however and catches the next punch mid-air.

“Don’t get cocky now,” she says, chastising the other.

They struggle for a dominance for a while. Lena still a little shaky and not as fast to land a blow as she usually is. She makes up for it in movement speed though. Eventually they both end up on their feet again, circling around each other, gauging what the other one is going to do next.

Widowmaker relaxes a little and straightens her back.

“Ready for another round, cherie?”

“Thought you’d never ask”

They ready themselves once again and the fight starts properly this time, with both partners on equal standing. It’s different than when they met as enemies somehow. There’s no Talon or Overwatch to fight for, no goal to accomplish, no payload to retrieve and no risk of dying or killing the other. It simply _is._ And _God_ does it feel good. It resembles a dance, the way they move around each other, and how they’re holding back their punches just enough so it won’t incapacitate the other, but still manage to make them hurt. They give and take equally, leaving bruises and marks all over each other’s body as their fight turns more intense. On and on they go, punching, kicking, dodging and everything else.

What feels like mere minutes later (but could very well be hours) they’re both panting and sprawled on the ground. Lena feels dizzy and is enjoying the high that came with this rush of adrenaline. For a moment she doesn’t think about her problems at all. She giggles to herself and hears the melodious sound of Widowmaker softly laughing in unison.

Her nose is bleeding and bruises are starting to form everywhere on her body. Widowmaker doesn’t look much better.

“Well that was certainly fun,” Lena says in the general direction of the ceiling.

“That it was.”

“I did win though, didn’t I?”

“No.”

“I totally did!” Lena laughs.

“We’ll have to establish some rules then, next time. So it’ll be clear you didn’t stand a chance.”

 

Lena responds with a laugh.

She never really saw this side of her former enemy before. Then again, she’s never seen any other side besides the stoic facade Widowmaker always showed her during their battles, only ever catching glimpses of what lay beneath. In the last couple of days she’s already seen more of Widowmaker than she ever did in those battles. But this side, it’s almost… playful.

“Thank you,” she says softly and turns to look at Widowmaker. Much to her surprise she’s looking back at her. Their eyes meet and Lena can see traces of that something still shining in the other’s eyes. She swallows. “Thanks for… for that,” she says and makes a vague gesture with her hands.

“Not a problem,” Widowmaker looks as if she wants to say more, but after a moment it’s clear she won’t.

Curiosity overtakes Lena and she takes her chances.

“What you said about what’s in your files, that you don’t feel except for when you kill… how much of that is actually true?” She says and hopes Widowmaker won’t kill her for it.

Several expressions seem to pass over the other’s face as she seems to think of an appropriate answer.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Widowmaker finally says. “But…” She continues. “More than what is in the files of Overwatch. More than what is in Talons files, as well.” She stares back up at the ceiling as she says this and Lena thinks she looks almost sad.

“Ah. They’d probably not like that, no. Bunch of control freaks they are,” Tracer responds and hums. “Well, I’ll keep it a secret then,” she says and smiles.

Widowmaker seems to appreciate her answer. “Thank you,” she says softly.

“Guess there’s hope for me then, too,” Lena says somewhat wistfully.

 There’s no response

When she looks back at the spider she freezes. There’s that look again. That intensely dark and predatory look that made her shiver the other day.

“Talon will not let you go, cherie.” She says and it sounds _so_ possessive.

_And neither will I._

Lena can almost hear her say it.

She feels herself shiver again. She’s afraid, but she won’t break their gaze. She’s determined to see this through. Adrenaline rushes though her. Her body feels hot and uncomfortable, but somehow it doesn’t feel bad. On the contrary, it feels rather good. She thinks that if it’s Widowmaker, she’d be able to handle anything no matter how dangerous. Even if the woman herself is the source. She idly wonders if this is part of what Talon did to her too. She’s not entirely sure.

“I know, love. I can take it.” Her voice sounds raw and too full of emotion. Perhaps it’s not Talon she’s talking about, but she’s not if sure Widowmaker realizes that.

Widowmaker rolls from her back to her side, and now she’s dangerously close to Lena. She props herself up with one arm and leans a bit over Lena, who gulps but manages to stay still otherwise. Her other hand she moves to ghost over Lena’s throat. It’s threatening but Lena doesn’t move and continuous to meet her eyes as if trying to prove a point.

“Do you still wish for me to end you?” Widowmaker says in a low tone and as to emphasize her point, adds more pressure to her throat. It’s more pleasant than Lena wants to acknowledge.

She shakes her head gently, as to not startle the other. “No,” she says and she wishes she could force the emotion from her voice. “I want to see this through. I’ll survive, like you said.”

“Hmm, good. But then what?”

_Then? Then Overwatch comes to rescue me, and Mercy will fix me, of course._

She doesn’t think that’s what Widowmaker needs to hear right now though.

“I don’t know,” she says and pauses before adding “What do you want?”

Widowmaker seems surprised at the question, as she doesn’t respond. Just stares at her with that intense look in her eyes.

After a moment Lena attempts to get up from her position, but this is clearly the wrong thing to do. Widowmaker immediately tightens her grip on her throat and pushes her back down hard.

“Not yet,” is all she says.

Lena doesn’t dare to move a muscle anymore. Not because she’s afraid, even though she is. No, it’s because the increased pressure on her throat feels _oh_ so good and she doesn’t want this moment to end.

And Widowmaker doesn’t want it to end either, she realizes.

“Alright,” she whispers softly, “take your time.”

She finally breaks their gaze and closes her eyes. A sign of acceptance, or perhaps even submission.

She lets out a soft sigh, her throat moving against the hand on it. She has a little trouble breathing but she doesn’t mind.

Widowmaker seems to take it as a sign and carefully begins to move her hand, drawing slow circles with her thumb and increasing and decreasing the pressure. Lena gasps involuntarily when the other woman increases the pressure to a particular high amount, sparks running through her veins. The hand freezes. Curiously Lena opens her eyes.

Her gut twists pleasantly at the sight.

Widowmaker’s eyes seem to be burning and they’re focused on nothing else but her. Her lips are slightly parted and her breathing is labored. It’s beautiful, Lena thinks. And it’s all because of _her._

 “I can take it all,” she hears herself whisper, and this time she’s definitely not talking about Talon anymore.

For a moment Widowmaker’s eyes are set ablaze even further and Lena thinks she might just be killed on the spot. She doesn’t think she minds.

Then Widowmaker seems to regain her senses, forcing down whatever was coming over her. She blinks a few times and a calm expression washes over the fiery one.

Whatever it is Widowmaker wants from her, she’s not eager to take it, Lena thinks.

The hand is removed from her throat, brushing against it a tad longer than she needs to.

“That’s good then,” is all she says.

In that moment they reach some kind of deeper understanding. A permanent connection settles between them. Something they share that no one else has. No one else can understand after all. Only they are going through this, fighting this battle against themselves.

The older woman stands up and reaches a hand out to Lena, helping her up as well. Together they walk back to their room through endless corridors. There’s silence between them, but it’s not awkward.

When they reach their rooms Lena realizes just how tired she is. She quickly changes into gray pajamas, watching Widowmaker do the same on the other side of the room. They brush their teeth together again. It’s almost domestic now, she thinks. It’s ludicrous. Although, when Lena notices the bruises and marks on herself when she looks into the mirror, not to mention the dried blood from her nose, she thinks maybe it’s not so domestic after all. She smiles despite herself. Grabbing a towel, she carefully washes off the clotted blood.

When she reaches her bed Lena lets herself fall onto it unceremoniously, almost lacking the energy to get under the covers. She groans in frustration when she finally manages the effort. Behind her she hears Widowmaker make a condescending noise.

“Cherie, it’s unsightly to make noises like that. I understand you are tired but at least keep up appearances will you?”

The _nerve_ of this woman.

“I’d throw my pillow at you, but then I’d have to get out of bed to fetch it again. You’re not worth the trouble, dear.”

“I’m _hurt_ ,” Widowmaker says in an obviously mocking tone.

It occurs to Lena that over the past days the other woman has been showing more emotion than she had in all the times they met before. She now knows the woman feels more than she lets on, but Lena can’t help but wonder why she’s choosing to show it to her now. Is it because she thinks they’re the same now? Does she feel safe enough? Or perhaps it’s not a choice at all. Maybe she can’t help it.

She wants to say more but before she does she becomes aware of Widowmaker’s breathing pattern. It’s soft and even slower than usual in a perfect rhythm. She’s sleeping already.

Lena grins. So much for not being tired.

Now she’s alone with her thoughts though. They flow back to their earlier fight and the subsequent conversation. She can still feel that hand ghost over her throat. She blushes at her earlier thoughts, blood rushing to her face. Why had she been so… accepting of the way Widowmaker touched her. So _submissive._ So _willing._ It just overcame her, she supposes. She hadn’t meant it lightly either when she said she was ready to take whatever she wanted to give. She still feel that determination linger at the back of her head. Was this her programming too? It’s easy to think it was. Still, there was very little resisting from her side. She certainly didn’t put up much of a fight.

Did she, the real her that was still there deep down, want it too? And what was it exactly that she even wanted?

The implications of the thought make her uncomfortable, scared of what’s inside her mind, and she quickly brushes the thought aside.

Survival, she thinks. That’s what she has to focus on for now.

Finally she manages to relax and moments later she drifts off into a sleep, too exhausted to even dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind reviews and for leaving kudos!


	3. Despite everything

 

Despite everything

It’s still you

 

 

The next day training begins immediately after breakfast.

Moira is present again. Lena feels rage at the mere sight of her, knowing what she did to Widowmaker. She shrugs it off quickly. She has to perform well today, for both of their sakes.

It’s the same scenario. This time everything feels different though. She’s much calmer, for starters. The artificial instincts are still present in her mind, but they linger in the back of her mind, urging her on from the backseat instead.

When the fight starts she glances over to Widowmaker, who nods silently in return. They’re ready.

Lena is focused on the enemy at hand, but she never loses sight of where Widowmaker is located.  She doesn’t even have to look, really. She just _knows._ She dances around Widowmaker’s ever changing position. Her role in battle has changed. Before she’d chase after enemy after enemy. Driving them into a corner and catching them alone. Now she’s focused on multiple enemies at once. Keeping them at bay and making sure they don’t advance too much. She easily changes from shooting to hand to hand combat when they do get close.

When she gives an agent a particularly hard kick and watches him go down Widowmaker moves to the right of her and takes down another. Their eyes meet in understanding. The fight changes and now they take on the exact same role. With utmost precision and timing they take down agent after agent all while revolving around each other in unison. Her emotions rise to a fever pitch it’s dizzying. She’s meeting Widowmaker at every possible turn. They’re complimenting each other’s weak points. They have each other’s back perfectly, fighting like a single force. It’s exhilarating and Lena feels a high she hadn’t felt before.

Almost too soon it’s over. Widowmaker lashes out with the bud of Widow’s kiss and the last agent drops to his knees, making the signal for surrender. Lena is breathing hard. Suddenly she hears a slow clap start, though soon a much faster clap overtakes it.

When they look in the direction of the sound the see a slow clapping Moira, with a much more ecstatic looking Sombra clapping much faster (and louder) right next to her, who has seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“Whoo! That. Was. _Awesome._ Did you see that doctor? Of course you did. Man, they didn’t stand a chance. What an onslaught,” Sombra says and laughs to herself. She approaches Widowmaker and casually pats her on the shoulder. She turns to Lena and for a moment she seems at a loss of how to greet her. Instead of a touch she makes finger guns at Lena and makes a shooting sound. Lena can’t help but laugh at the enthusiastic woman and her choice of greeting.

Widowmaker thanks Sombra and Lena notices how they’re almost amicable with one another. It never really occurred to her that people within Talon had friendships with each other, let alone that Widowmaker was among those. To her it always was nothing more than a terrorist organization filled with, well… terrorists. And terrorists were bad guys and bad guys didn’t have something as good as friendship.

Yet here she is, watching two people clearly being comfortable with each other’s presence, not just tolerating one another but actively enjoying the interaction. It’s confusing and it makes her uncomfortable.

Lena almost gratefully notices how the mood immediately seems too sour when Moira joins the conversation. At least not everyone here is friends.

“That was surprisingly satisfactory,” the red haired doctor says and Lena thinks it must take some skill to make words that should be meant as a compliment sound like a disappointment.

“I don’t know what has… transpired between you two to show such progress,” she continues and there’s the slightest hint of suspicion in her tone of voice, “But that was certainly an improvement.”  Lena shifts uncomfortably on her feet. She doesn’t particularly want to share that bit of information with the doctor.

Luckily Widowmaker seems to share her sentiment.

“We trained, that is all.”

Moira looks at them for a moment too long and then seems to draw her conclusions.

“That’s good then. Seems you’re ready for your first assignment,” she follows up. Lena is glad she doesn’t pry any further.

But then the rest of the words settle in her mind. First assignment. She’s going to be send out into the field. She might have to fight Overwatch. Her good mood dissipates quickly. She doesn’t think she can do that. There’s the possibility that Talon thinks so too though. Perhaps they wouldn’t test her loyalty that way, at least not so quickly. She clings to that hope. She has to, because she genuinely doesn’t know what she’ll do if she finds herself choosing between protecting Widowmaker and running back to Overwatch.

Sombra seems to detect her mood because she suddenly focuses her attention on her and smiles.

“What’s with the sour face, little fly?” She points to the training grounds. “What you did out there, well… you can overcome anything.” Lena notices the underlying serious tone. Is she comforting her? Did she understand her turmoil?

“Yeah,” Lena says weakly, then gathers herself. “Yeah!” She says more strongly and laughs. “We can.” She’ll find a way. She always does.

They talk for a little while and she’s almost scared how _easy_ it is to talk with these people. Even Moira seems to lighten up a little and makes some easy, albeit slightly strained, small talk. Widowmaker seems to say the least of everyone, resorting to short replies and nods. Though even she seems comfortable.

Moira leaves after a while, saying something about urgent business. Lena secretly thinks she might just have ran out of social energy. After she’s gone Sombra turns to her once more.

“It’s not easy,” she begins carefully, “What you’re going through, I mean.” She pauses and seems to look for the right words to say. “It’s good, then. Good that you’re pulling through.” She smiles at Lena and it honest to God looks genuinely friendly. It’s confusing. Despite it she finds herself smiling back at the woman. _At the terrorist,_ she reminds herself. It’s a little confronting to hear but she’s also glad Sombra is not pretending everything is fine.

“Thanks,” she responds in earnest.

“Well I guess you’ll have your _prison_ to return to,” Sombra says in faux seriousness, then corrects herself. “Sorry, I mean your _room,”_ she continues and does a pair of air quotes with her fingers.

“Yes, thank you. We will.”

Lena looks puzzled, not exactly sure what they mean, but they don’t delve deeper on the subject. Instead Sombra turns to leave. After a few paces she waves her hand over her shoulder. “Well, Widow, I’m glad you have her now, at least. Must be less lonely.”

Before Widowmaker gets a chance to respond she has turned around a corner.

“I don’t get _lonely,”_ she says anyway, even though Sombra is long outside her hearing range. It’s a little amusing.

“Sure thing, love.”

Widow glances at her but doesn’t grace Lena with a response.

“What did she mean though? Why’d she call the place where we sleep a prison? I mean technically we’re free to go around the building,” Lena says as they begin to move back to their living quarters.

“Ah, well, I suppose our chambers aren’t as accommodating as those belonging to other high ranking agents… or even compared to the barracks of the grunts. It’s in a different location too, removed from everyone else.”

Lena never really noticed any of that before, but it’s definitely true. There’s a lot of people coming and going in places like the training area or the cafeteria, same for the corridors and rooms in their vicinity. But the closer you get to their room the more quiet it gets. They’re in a really secluded location.

“But, why? You’re one of their highest ranked agents, aren’t you?”

“ _You’re a weapon, Widowmaker, not a person, you don’t need to occupy yourself with trivialities and shallow entertainment”_ she quotes. Lena’s eyes widen and her heartbeat falters. “I don’t need anything besides missions. It only work as a distraction.” She says it so easily, Lena thinks, but it’s such a harsh way to feel about yourself.

“In the beginning I did not deal well with anything not related to a mission, or anyone for that matter. Everything and everyone was so… overwhelming. That’s why they chose such a remote location. The rooms surrounding ours aren’t even in use,” Widowmaker says without a hint of color in her voice.

Lena can only imagine what she means with ‘not dealing easy with others’. It probably wasn’t very nice.

“Seems pretty cruel to of them to treat you like that, love.”

“…Perhaps. But it is true. I am not like… others.”

“Maybe so, but you’re not a weapon either. You’re more than that. You’re alive.”

“Alive…” Widowmaker echoes and stares into the distance. “I am, but only sometimes.”

“Uh, right. The killing thing,” Lena responds awkwardly, mentally kicking herself for her choice of words.

“Yes, the killing thing,” Widowmaker says dryly. “You’ll agree that outside of that I do not have much else. I don’t need it, either.”

“You could try it though,” Lena insists. “You know like, wanting something for yourself and then acting on that. It’s not that hard.”

“Hmm,” is the only response she gets.

Lena huffs and drops the subject. She’s not giving up on this, she silently decides.

Moments later they arrive at their room.

Widowmaker gracefully lies down on her bed and closes her eyes. Then, she proceeds to ignore Lena for the rest of the day. She’s not sleeping, Lena can tell by her breathing, but when Lena makes various noises to get her attention there’s no reaction.

Dejectedly she copies Widowmaker and sinks into her own thoughts.

They go to sleep early that night.

Widowmaker is back to normal the following morning, up earlier than Lena as usual. The day passes by almost too easy. There’s no more late night sparring, which is oddly disappointing to Lena. Their simulated training missions make up for it though. They nail every single one of them, thanks to their cooperation. 

When not bust training or cooped up in their room they occasionally have time to chat with the various other members of Talon. Lena quickly learns what to expect from the, admittedly, strange agents.

Sombra is the easiest to talk with, but she definitely has to like you for that. She likes Widowmaker, that’s clear enough. It’s possible that she just likes Lena by extension, or that she feels enough pity for her to treat her kindly, but she’s at least kind to Lena.

Moira is less kind. But also not unkind. She’s just a little… sour. Doesn’t really seem to enjoy small talk. Lena isn’t sure what exactly she _does_ like, except for science. Her eyes light up when she’s talking about one of her experiments. It’s could be nice to listen to, it’s not nice, however, when _you_ are said experiment. Moira seems to have very little regard for the comfortableness of the people she’s talking to, or about, for that matter. She has the nasty habit of flexing the fingers of her damaged arm, making everyone in her vicinity equally uncomfortable.

Reaper seems to purposely avoid Lena. He doesn’t seem to dislike her or anything, since he seems to avoid others as well. He used to instill fear in her whenever they met on the battlefield, never quite understanding his strengths and weaknesses. He was known to be ruthless. And he had betrayed Overwatch, though the details surrounding that were muddy at best. She always resented him for that. But now he just seems… like a loner. They have exactly one conversation that’s longer than a single sentence, and it’s about whether Lena also thinks the building is needlessly confusing. It’s such a casual conversation that Lena almost relaxes a little around him. Almost. She’s still wary of him.

Then there’s Doomfist, whom she just calls Akande in her mind. (But doesn’t dare to do so in real life.) Akande seems to outright not care for whatever she does. She sees very little of him. Only meeting him briefly and seeing him train on occasion.

There’s other people too. Lower ranking members that seem to endlessly come and go. She attempts to chit-chat with some of them, but most seem eager to leave her alone as soon as possible. It’s only after what feels like the tenth time that this has happened it’s because they are afraid of Widowmaker. She’s always close by and Lena notices she tends to glance over more often when she tries to talk to someone.  She wonders what exactly she has done to instill such fear in them, but it’s not exactly hard to imagine either.

All in all it’s confusing how easily she adapts. She thought these people were monsters. They have done monstrous things, she’s the latest proof of that herself, but they’re also frighteningly _human_ with their habits and curiosities. 

She’s mortified when she realizes she’s actually getting _used_ to this life.

 

The day of their first mission arrived quicker than she realized.

It’s not against Overwatch.

Relief washes over her when they get the debriefing.

It’s another, much smaller terrorist organization. At least that’s how they’re described in the files of Overwatch. Talon describes them as a rival organization who has violated their rules of territory ownership. Apparently they’ve taken over a safe house located at the top of one of the skyscrapers of King’s row. A safe house which stored some digital blueprints experimental tech Talon’s inventors were working on. Those are now stuck in the safe house.

It’s their job to drive the hostile organization out.

Then they’re to do some technical stuff in the control room so Sombra can take over remotely.

She can do that. She’s fought these people before. Nasty people who justify their territorial violence with anti Omnic motivations. It’s a gang more than a terrorist group, really. Unorganized and chaotic. People who feel like the world is out to get them specifically, who shed all morals in retaliation and are now on the prowl for power.

It’s only her and Widowmaker on the mission, without backup. It’s not a large mission. It’s their baptism of fire, she thinks. They’re thrown into the fray and they’ll have to sink or swim. Well, mostly her. Widowmaker is experienced in solo missions. But after their teamwork Lena has some confidence that it’ll go alright. She hopes so, at least.

They’re deployed at exactly eleven pm after their debriefing in the plane on the way there. Lena was made to sit in the windowless back as to not reveal the location of the base. She thinks they might be flying north but she’s not sure. After about an hour and a half they arrive in King’s Row. She thinks the base might be located somewhere in the Mediterranean and files the information away in her head.

Widowmaker is clothed in her usual outfit, Lena often wondered how she was comfortable in it, both mentally and physically, but chooses not to comment on it. She herself has been outfitted with a more standard Talon uniform. Black shirt and cargo pants, detailed with the apparently necessary Talon embroidery. It fits well, her chronal accelerator easily settling over it. She misses her old uniform, her current one not flashy enough by a mile. Well, at least they gave her goggles back.

She snaps them on and next to her Widowmaker does the same with her visor. Quietly and without being noticed they exit the plane.

Darkness has fallen over King’s Row, just how she likes it. It’s familiar territory. They have been dropped off several buildings away from their destination. She watches the plane disappear in the distance when all of a sudden a thought strikes her.

_She could escape right now._

Temptation strikes and she tentatively takes a few steps forward.

“Don’t,” she hears from behind her. “Don’t even think about it. You’re wired. You won’t get far, I ensure you. They’ll track you down and shoot you before you can reach out to anyone. And if they don’t, I’ll have to.”

It’s a fair warning, Lena supposes. She gulps and halts her pacing. Then turns around and puts her arm behind her head.

“Wasn’t dreaming of it, love,” she jokes. “Like you could even shoot me that easily, though!”

Widowmaker doesn’t share her sentiment and gives her a dark look. “Good,” is all she says, ignoring the last part.

“I’ve detected movement close the perimeter,” she continues. She activates the thermal heat sensors on her visor and gazes in the direction of the target building. Lena looks at her and visor covering her eyes and she thinks that it’s in moments like these that Widowmaker lives up to the ruthless spider assassin persona the most. She’s cold and calculating and the glowing red dots give her an eerie look. No signs of remorse or empathy for her victims. It’s beautiful, in a carnage sort of way. She shivers despite herself.

The purple woman quickly gauges the location of the enemy and communicates their locations to Lena. They’re mostly located on the top floor of the building, but a few of them are on patrol on the rooftops of the nearby skyscrapers.

They’ll have to take those down if they want to make a clean entrance. Gunshots would alert the rest, so they decide to resort to hand to hand combat for now. Widowmaker hangs her rifle over her shoulder almost wistfully and clicks her visor upwards.

They make their way over to the nearest one. He goes down without much trouble. Widowmaker grabs him from behind, a hand covering his mouth to prevent him from making any noise and Lena punches him unconscious. When Lena notices Widowmaker isn’t done with her victim and is attempting to snap his neck she hurriedly stops her.

“Stop! Only kill when you need to!” She whispers a tad too loud. Widowmaker gives her the most ludicrous expression. Like she just asked the most outrageous thing. After a moment of contemplation she drops his body and he slumps unceremoniously to the concrete floor.

She looks at Tracer with raised eyebrows.

 _The things I do for you,_ she seems to be saying.

Relieved, Lena thanks her and they move on to the next guard. He goes down easily as well, Widowmaker makes it a point to slowly emphasize how she’s not killing him, choking him until he faints.

“Show off,” Lena mutters. She gets another pointed look.

It isn’t until the fifth one that they are caught. All in all it was a good score, Lena thinks. The fifth one happened to have her gun in her hand, and managed to fire it into the skies before being taken out. Voices rise in the distance as they are alerted by the sound.

Bollocks.

Oh well.

Moments later the first shots are fired in their direction. They shift gears, Lena takes out her blasters and Widowmaker quickly grabs her rifle, setting it up for distance. Now the real battle begins.

Widowmaker is the most vulnerable when she’s aiming. She can only focus on one target at the time and her vision is zoomed in so much she can’t scout the perimeter very well. Each shot is deadly but when faced with so many opponents there’s only so much she can do.

“Good luck, love,” Lena says as she sprints forward. She dashes and blinks over the final two rooftops and makes it into a more effective blaster range. Behind her she hears Widowmaker fire repeatedly, each shot cracking like thunder though the sky.

“Get to cover!” Someone screams, “It’s the Widowmaker! She’s here!”

People are dropping like flies around her.

Her own focus is Widowmaker. She doesn’t have to think about her location. She just knows. Her artificial instincts tell her to protect, and she’s easily channeling it into a tactical advantage. Her main objective is to look for anyone trying to aim for the other woman and take those down, so Widowmaker can safely shoot the rest.

She’s twirling around and dances between the bullets. She’s ever calculating her location compared to that of Widowmaker as she blinks around the rooftop. The gang members have prioritized her over the sniper now, and both of them are taking full advantage of that. Tracer is quick, it’s easy not to get hit if she never stops moving. A few bullets graze her body, sure, but nothing enough to slow her down even the slightest.

She almost feels normal.

Despite everything it’s still her. Just… amplified.

She giggles to herself. This is _fun._ She always liked to fight, especially against Widowmaker. But fighting side by side with her is somehow even more fun. They got each other’s back without communicating a single word. There’s a connection she didn’t know she needed. But now she does, she actively _craves_ it. Craves battles, as well.

She knows Widowmaker does too, knows how good she must be feeling right now. She does too. This is what they made her for.

They’re _alive._

She jolts towards a particular large gang member, darts around him and shoots him from behind. Thunder cracks through the sky and next to her another one drops down.  One of the agents attempts to follow the direction of where the bullet came from. Lena’s conditioning triggers and before he can properly aim he crumples to the ground. Something hums pleasantly in the back of her head. Before she can dwell on it she rushes to the next one.

They continue like this for minutes, hostile agents now pouring out the heavily armored shed on the rooftop. It’s no use, they don’t stand a chance. Eventually, one of the higher ranked members calls for a retreat. It’s a mess, they all attempt to squeeze back into the shed. Lena stops attacking, only defending herself against the few who make another vain attempt at attacking her. Widowmaker does the same and moments later she lands beside Tracer, watching the agents scurry away in the distance.

“Shouldn’t you be taking them out now? Easy pickings and all that,” she says and points at the horde of fleeing people.

“I don’t do _easy pickings,”_ Widowmaker responds and there’s disdain in her voice, like it’s a distasteful thing to even suggest.

Lena laughs.

Together they watch until the final agent has passed through the door. They watch them exit the building on the ground floor, minutes later. They wait for a while longer, making sure they’ve all left and enter the shed themselves.

Their weapons are still drawn in case of an ambush, but they meet no one and safely reach the control room.  There they have to do the technical stuff. Sombra has given them the necessary passwords and explained how to input them.

Widowmaker stands on the lookout in the hallway as Tracer puts in the passwords. When she’s ready she presses the big red button, as per explanation.

An alarm goes off.

Lena briefly wonders if that’s supposed to happen.

Then the door slams shut behind her.

Probably not, then.

She is trapped inside, with Widowmaker still in the hallway. Lena runs over to the door and attempts to open it, but as expected it’s locked. It’s a heavy door too, with large locks and bolts. She hears Widowmaker knock on the other side. Lamely, she knocks back in an attempt to let the other know she’s alright.

She’s startled when there’s a sudden screeching noise from above. When she looks at the source she’s mortified when she realizes what’s happening. Air is being sucked from the rafters at an alarming rate. It’s going to create an oxygen-less vacuum.  It’s a trap and she’s stuck inside it. She’s going to suffocate if she’s not quick to escape.

She hears a muffled “ _What’s going on?”_ coming from the other side of the door. “It’s the oxygen!” Lena all but screams. “It’s being sucked from the room!” Both her voice and mind are panic riddled.  She tries to push the rising feeling of panic down and think logically.

She rushes back to the control panel and begins to type in the passwords again. It’s not working. She tries to find settings or anything at all that references to the trap but to no avail. She resorts to mashing random buttons. No luck either.

She begins to cough.

It’s been less than a minute and already it’s getting hard to breathe. Her mind goes hot white with panic now, instincts overtaking her. She turns to the only thing that still has a clear presence in her thoughts.

She runs back to the door and begins to bang on it.

“Widow! Widow, PLEASE! I’m going to suffocate!” She’s screaming now.

More coughing from her side and then silence.

For a long moment the thought that Widowmaker has abandoned her starts creeping up on her.

Then a gunshot rings out.

“ _Move away from the door!”_ She hears. She quickly moves to the side and watches nervously, tears welling up in her eyes.

There’s more shots. Lena doesn’t know if the other woman is shooting the lock or just attempting to shoot the door to shreds.

She’s getting dizzy and falls to her knees. She’s trying to control her breathing but it’s no use.

Widowmaker is still shooting at the door. Never ending gunshots ring out almost rhythmically.

Moments pass by and Lena begins to lose consciousness.

What a shitty death, Lena thinks to herself. The high from a lack of oxygen kicks in and she feels much calmer. She was supposed to die in battle, guns blazing. Bullet to the stomach and bleeding out, but not before heroically taking her enemy down with her.

Yes, that was what was supposed to happen.

Or maybe she’d just retire and settle on a farm or something, dying from old age in the arms of a loved one. That would be nice. She begins to drift off.

There’s a loud noise and with her last strength she looks up. Widowmaker has kicked the door in.

Ah, she went for the lock then. Smart

 Her eyes close and she crumples to the floor.

“ _Merde,”_ She hears distantly. “Lena? _Lena, get up!_ ”

The world goes black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's more fun writing this than I anticipated. The kind comments you people gave me fuel my happiness even more. 
> 
> Also just imagine them talking in accents and them adding native words yourself if you want, please. I feel like a moron writing it out.


	4. The name of Lena

_I am lost in all you are_

_You're alive for what I am_

The first thing she becomes aware of  when she regains consciousness is that she’s being moved, roughly. Someone is carrying her in their arms. The second thing is a hushed voice, speaking commands to someone. It’s Widowmaker’s voice, she recognizes quickly enough. Then she’s also the one carrying her.

She keeps her eyes closed for a while as she lets the memories of what happened flow back into her mind.

The oxygen trap. Suffocating. Widowmaker yelling her name. It all comes back.

Wait.

Widowmaker _knows her name._

Her real one.

Fuck.

Up until now she’d only been called ‘Tracer’ by her and the other Talon members, and assumed they didn’t know her personal name. Lena and the other Overwatch agents went through great lengths to keep their personal lives and data out of the hands of Talon and similar organizations. It’s why they came up with the callsigns to begin with. Worriedly she wonders what else Widowmaker knows, and exactly who knows it.

“You did not say there would be a trap, Sombra,” she hears Widowmaker say and there’s a subtle hint of agitation in her voice.

She hears a muted static mumble in response. Widowmaker is talking into her communicator.

“Just get the jet over, she’s breathing steadily but hasn’t regained consciousness yet, no.”

Lena feels a sudden draft as Widowmaker steps outside.

“Yes… yes, see you in a moment.”

There’s some noise coming from the comm. Lena can barely hear the sound, let alone understand what is being said. After that the com shuts off.

Lena takes a moment, letting the woman carrying her take a few steps more as to not to make it seem she was already awake.

She stirs and opens her eyes.

Her vision is blurry. Unfocused eyes try to focus on Widowmaker’s face. She blinks a few times. Her eyes slowly adjust and meet golden eyes in return. For a few moments the face is too vague to make out an expression. Then she regains her vision.

Almost.

She almost misses the pure look of relief washing over Widowmaker’s face. The woman masks it quickly enough, replacing it with the more familiar stoic one. But it was unmistakingly there, if only for a moment.

“Are you in pain?” Is the first thing she asks. Lena shakes her head. She feels a bit sore and perhaps somewhat weak but there’s no real pain.

“Good, can you walk?”

Lena nods in response.

In one smooth movement Widowmaker puts her on her feet. She’s a bit wobbly and she holds on to the sniper’s upper arm for a few moments before tentatively taking her first steps.

“Thank you,” she says. “All good!” She does a little twirl to emphasize her point.

Her mood turns more serious. “You saved me,” she says quietly. “You could have left me there but you didn’t.”

“There was no reason for me to leave you there. We were on a mission together,” the other says and the words seem to flow from her mouth so naturally.  “It would have been… unprofessional of me not to try. And I am a professional.”

“Well, still. Thank you. I’m grateful. I owe you my life.”

Something intangible crosses over Widowmaker’s face when she says that. It’s gone before Lena can recognize what it is, however.

There’s been a lot of these hidden emotions surfacing beneath her façade recently, Lena muses to herself. Perhaps that had always been the case and she’s only now starting to notice it herself, as well as getting into situations with the sniper where there’s opportunity for her to experience emotions.

Before she can dwell on it any further she becomes aware of the sound of engines roaring in the distance. It gets closer quickly. The jet is here.

Moments later it lands in front of them and a Talon representative motions for them to get on board. Lena takes one long wistful, yearning look at the streets of King’s Row below her, illuminated by street lights and neon signs, and gets on the jet.

She’s made to sit in the windowless part again. Annoyed she makes her way over to the chairs at the end and puts on her seatbelt. After a while Widowmaker joins her, choosing a seat one seat away from Lena and sits down.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of them, Lena doesn’t really know what to talk about anyway. They’re both tired, the rush of adrenaline having long left their bodies. Widowmaker soon nods off, her head slumped forward, hanging over her crossed arms.

She looks… peaceful, Lena thinks to herself. There’s a soft expression on her face and she seems relaxed. Her hair, that’s normally so tightly tied up is a bit messier and some strands have gotten loose. Lena smiles. It’s almost sweet, the contrast stark against her waking persona. She looks like someone Lena would willingly protect, out of her own volition.

It’s a worrying thought.

She’s too tired to worry about it now, however. She brushes it aside for later and closes her eyes herself, drifting off within minutes.

She’s jolted awake by the plane moving in to land, her nap making the flight pass by in no time. They exit the plane, which lands in a square surrounded by huge gray walls so Lena can’t see where they are, and they enter the Talon headquarters together with the members of Talon that picked them up.

Reaper is waiting for them near the entrance. When he sees them he approaches them. “Widowmaker, Tracer,” he says curtly in greeting. “The mission was a success, I heard. A favorable outcome. Sombra will be with us shortly, after she finishes her part.”

Lena feels a sense of accomplishment she wishes she didn’t feel. She meekly follows the group when they make their way inside. She still doesn’t know her way in this maze, so she makes sure to stay close behind. Widowmaker wants to split off towards their own chambers at some point, but Reaper stops her and explains they’re expected elsewhere.

Instead of going deep down into the lower levels they move up an exhaustingly large amount of winding staircases. The scenery becomes brighter with more furnishing and decorations as they go up. Lena does a double take when she sees a _plant._ It’s real too. They come to a halt in front of a large door, which squeaks when Reaper opens it.

It’s… it’s a living room. An absurdly large one too. There’s no windows, but the artificial lighting is comfortable enough that it makes up for it. There’s red carpet on the floor and there’s wooden chairs and tables. In the corner there’s a large digital screen with couches surrounding it. In another corner there’s a spacious kitchen. It’s not exactly homely, partly thanks to the large space, but it’s the absolute opposite of the rooms on the lower levels. There’s a couple of doorways leading to other rooms, but all the doors are closed.

“Take some time for yourselves,” Reaper says and proceeds towards one of the closed rooms.

“This is where the other high ranking operatives reside,” Widowmaker explains after she notices Lena’s wide eyes. “I’ve had business here on occasion as well.” The woman seems to find it odd to be brought here as well.

“Surprised?” A voice behind them says. Startled, Lena looks behind them. It’s Moira, who has seemingly appeared from one of the rooms. A smirk adorns her face. She’s not in her lab coat and uniform, but is instead wearing a simple black shirt with white pants and a loose fitting tie. “You didn’t think we’d sleep with the grunts in the barracks, now did you?”

She walks past them and proceeds to pour herself some coffee, then moves to sit at the large wooden table and looks up at them knowingly. “Feel free to join me if you wish to do so.”

Widowmaker manages to take a single step in her direction before Lena blurts out if they possibly have any tea as well. The purple woman gives her a stern glance over her shoulder.

Moira laughs, however, and points her to where the tea equipment is located. God, real tea. She bloody missed that.  

She rummages around in cabinets as Widowmaker sits down opposite of Moira.

After Lena finishes making a cup of tea (grabbing the biggest mug she could find for herself) she joins as well. Awkwardly she blows on her scalding cup of tea.

Moira takes a sip of her coffee, seemingly unperturbed by the silence.

Time crawls by as no one says a single word.

Lena almost lets a sigh of relief escape her when Reaper returns. He’s still wearing his mask and hood but has traded the rest of his dark tailoring in for standard Talon wear. He’s still wearing gloves too. All in all it looks much more comfortable.

But it looks a bit silly too, Lena thinks and stifles a laugh.

“I see you’ve entertained them well, O’deorain,” he comments and Lena needs another moment when she realizes it’s sarcastic. Sarcasm, coming from _Reaper._ Today is full of surprises.

“We’re off the clock. It's Moira now, Gabriel,” is all Moira says in response and waves her hand at him without looking over.

“Where’s Akande?”

“Not coming. He’s injured. Retired for the night.”

“What? How did that happen?”

Moira laughs loudly. “Our prodigy _twisted his ankle_ during training this morning.” She can barely contain her laughter and follows up with, “of course he insisted on finishing the exercise and made his injury much worse because of it. On top of that he got beaten up, badly. It’s more his pride than his body, really. He’ll be fine,” she says dismissively.

“That’s a fine lesson for him then,” Reaper, no _Gabriel,_ responds and it’s evident in his voice he’s amused as well.

Lena is perplexed at how casual and _human_ the events that transpire before her are.

_They’re terrorists._

She has to remind herself.

Because if she doesn’t, and she squints her eyes just right, it looks like the scene of one of the many late night chats she and her co-workers would often have.

_“Is Wilhelm joining us tonight?” Fareeha asks as they sit around the round wooden table._

_“I don’t think so, Hana gave him a run for his money today, had to be patched up. I think he went to bed early.” Brigitte responds._

_“Poor man must have had his pride hurt.”_

_“On the contrary,” Angela interjects, “You should have seen the glint in his eyes. He was so proud of her.”_

Lena thinks back fondly of the memory. It’s uncomfortable how similar to Overwatch the currently unfolding conversation is.

Come to think of it, all three other people in the room with her right now _are_ former members of Overwatch, to various extends. Although she doesn’t know the details of their individual defections, the details always heavily guarded. They left before Lena became an official member, and she never got to know any of them personally.

Someone taps on her shoulder. When Lena turns to look there’s no one there. Confused she looks around the room, drawing the curious glances of the other people present.

They stare at her with a puzzled look until realization seems to hit Widowmaker.

“Sombra, don’t play games with her please.”

A purple glow begins to shine and seconds later a grinning Sombra appears. Ah, Lena had forgotten about that particular ability.

“Works every time,” she says teasingly. She takes a seat at the table. “Work’s all finished up. The safe house is properly back under our control,” she announces to the room.

Moira congratulates her on finishing the job and Gabriel makes a noise in approval. Sombra takes the praise with an exaggerated bow of her head before turning to Lena. “I heard about the booby trap,” she says and her voice is much more serious now. “I apologize, I didn’t know. I thought I did my research thoroughly enough. Clearly, I made a mistake there.”

Lena doesn’t quite know how to respond. It’s such a sincere apology from what is by all means still her enemy. “It’s alright, she says and she doesn’t like how her voice croaks. “I made it out and all.” She nods over to Widowmaker. “She saved me, owe her big now,” she says with more confidence and laughs.

Sombra, seemingly relieved, laughs as well. “Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, what a horrible debt to have,” she says in mock horror. Widowmaker gives her a questioning look, eyebrows just slightly raised.

Lena finds herself smiling at the interaction. There’s more camaraderie between these people than she could ever have imagined.

The rest of the evening passes by with surprising speed. Multiple subjects are discussed. Both Moira’s scientific and Sombra’s technological research are talked about. Previous missions are remembered as well. (Though Lena thinks they’re avoiding ones involving Overwatch on purpose.) They laugh when Sombra talks about a moment where Gabriel was shocked by some of her tech activating and dropped his guns. There’s a lot of laughter in general.

They ask the both of them questions as well, about their mission, their skills, their training. They seem to be carefully avoiding the topic of Overwatch, in fact they don’t seem to be interested in that at all. Widowmaker answers their questions with practiced professionalism, but even she cracks at some point and becomes just a little too invested when she talks about her rifle. She looks embarrassed when Sombra calls her out on it, but smiles nonetheless.

All in all it feels like they’re genuinely trying to involve the both of them. It’s uncanny.

After an hour or two Gabriel is the first to withdraw for the night. Sombra follows when she stifles the third yawn in a row. Widowmaker announces it’s probably time for them to head to bed as well when Sombra leaves.

They walk back to their chambers in silence, Lena relying on Widowmaker for directions.

When they’re back in their room Widowmaker seems clearly bothered by something. They silently change into their nightwear, Lena unsure of what to say. They don’t even turn the lights on. Instead of heading to bed however, Widowmaker pauses next to her bed, leaning back against the wall. Her hand is raised to her mouth and she’s slightly bend over, deep in thought.

Lena stands in the middle of the room for a few long and awkward moments, not knowing what to do next. Should she politely let her be and go to bed? Leave her alone with her thoughts? No, that’s not her style.

Determinedly she makes her way over to the other. “What’s bothering you, love?” she say. Her concentration broken, Widowmaker looks up and meets her eyes. She gives her a puzzled look.

“I do not understand,” she begins carefully. “I am their weapon. I am discouraged to engage in unnecessary social activities. And that?” She makes a gesture at the door. “That counted as an unnecessary social activity, didn’t it?” Her question sounds genuine and Lena can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, definitely. That was _odd_.”

Widowmaker seems reassured. “Good. Then I’m not the only one who thought that.”

“Maybe their policy changed,” Lena says half-jokingly. “Seems they went really out of their way to make us feel at home.”

Widowmaker seems to consider her words carefully, sinking deep into thought again.

 “So you know my name,” Lena eventually says and immediately regrets it. The other woman looks up at her, surprise evident in her eyes.

“I do,” Widowmaker responds after a while.

“Who else knows?”

“Talon,” Widowmaker simply says.

Lena shudders. “You have to be kidding me,” she exclaims. “What else do they know?”

Widowmaker thinks for a moment then responds to her question with another one. “What is in the files of Overwatch?”

“What? No, you _can’t_ be serious,” Lena follows up more loudly.

“Just assume that everything that is documented in Overwatch is known to Talon. At least to higher ranked agents.”

“…How?” Lena  manages to respond after gathering herself a little.

“Sombra is very good at what she does.”

The hacker woman. She should have known. Annoyance rises in her. There’s sensitive, personal information in those files. Does Sombra know all of that? She laughed with her, even apologized. And she knows that much about Lena? It’s embarrassing.

“Proof it,” she finally responds daringly.

“You’re 26 years old, you’re of British nationality, and you used to be a pilot. You’re allergic to cats, your blood type is A positive,” Widowmaker drones out like she’s reading from a file sheet. All Lena can do is listen. “Your parents are dead, died when you were 13. You have no contact with other family members, nor do you have any friends or relationships outside of Overwatch. You had an accident when you attempted to pilot an experimental ship. It’s known as the Slipstream incident. And that’s why you wear _this_ now,” she taps her chronal accelerator gently. “…Need I go on?”

“N-no.” Lena manages to stutter. The confirmation of what she feared not making it any easier.

“I know where you live, too.”

“ _Stop._ Please. I get it, I get it.”

“Alright.”

Neither of them says anything for a while, giving Lena time to adjust to this new knowledge. She twirls around her axis, pauses when her back is turned to Widowmaker.

Behind her she hears the other woman shift and breathe in a slow heavy breath.

Before she can turn around to see what’s going on two arms snake around her waist and she’s pulled back.

“Whoa!” She yelps. “Whatcha doing, love?” She asks in surprise.

The arms around her tighten their grip. They’re leaning back against the wall now. Lena doesn’t resist, doesn’t dare to move.

“I’m _wanting something for myself,”_ the sniper says in a low tone, echoing Lena’s words from the other day.

Oh.

Well she guesses she caused this then.

She can hear the woman behind her breathe. It’s slow but it’s quicker than usual, she thinks. Lena stays still, standing stiffly.

They stay like this for a while, neither moving a muscle. She can feel her heart hammer in her chest. Lena isn’t sure what the other woman wants from her. After a moment she thinks Widowmaker might not know herself either.

She’s not letting go, however.

“Does it frighten you? That I know?” Widowmaker asks quietly.

“It’s not bloody nice, that’s for sure,” Lena responds a little too quickly, in an attempt to cope. “Makes me feel unsafe. You could have easily done me in ages ago with all that knowledge.”

“I could have. But I did not,” Widowmaker points out earnestly.

She has a point there.

For a moment Lena relaxes a little, perhaps she’s overreacting. Then another horrifying thought hits her.

“Did you ever watch me, at home?” She asks in a tense, quiet voice. Does she even want to know?

Widowmaker shifts ever so lightly behind her before she responds.

“I did.”

A strained noise escapes Lena’s lips. _Fuck._

“Why? When? And how often? For how long have you been doing that? And how long would you watch me?” She’s rambling, she knows. But she doesn’t care. She has to know.

“At first because Talon wanted more intel,” Widowmaker begins. “They wanted to know how you behave outside of Overwatch. This was after they noticed your… vigilante work.” Lena curses inwardly. They knew that too? She wasn’t even sure Overwatch knew.

“I watched you out of my own volition too, a few times.” Widowmaker says in a voice that makes Lena shiver. It’s that _something_ again.

“Why?”

“I was curious. I wanted to, but I did not understand why,” she says in the same tone.

In a movement more intimate than Lena can process, Widowmaker slightly leans forward, letting her chin rest on Lena’s shoulder.

“I still do not understand,” she admits softly.

There’s emotion in her voice, genuine confusion and turmoil. It’s muted and hidden, but definitely there. It makes Lena want to turn around and hold her. Tell her it will be alright.

She doesn’t understand either of them. She should feel angry and violated at this revelation, but she feels very little of either emotion. It’s not pleasant, sure. Scary too. But she’s more willing to forgive and accept than she’s comfortable with.

She doesn’t understand what Widowmaker wants from her, either. She knows the woman definitely wants _something,_ the possessive mood swings, the tone in her voice and the arms currently snaked around her waist tell her a much _._ But whatever it is, Widowmaker will not let herself find out what it is. Will not take that step herself.

Lena wants to know, however. And she’s going to find out.

Determinedly she makes an attempt on how to proceed, finding her thoughts drifting off to the tone of the snipers voice. It was so soft yet powerful, so vulnerable but overwhelmingly unswerving. It’s paradoxical. Then again everything about this woman is. It’s getting hard to focus. She likes it when her voice sounds like that, she realizes.

She wants to hear more of it. She thinks her name would sound _so_ nice in that tone of voice.

“Can you say it again?” She finds herself saying before she can stop herself, her voice barely more than a whisper. “My name, I mean,” she follows up and inwardly curses at the tremble in her voice.

Widowmaker might find it an odd request, she thinks. Might laugh at her. Might ask why. Might not do it at all.

The sniper doesn’t do any of that.

Instead she shifts one of her arms so her hand is resting on Lena’s hip, and she pulls her back slightly. The fingers of her other hand curl into her skin, not quite scratching but leaving the ghost of pain in their wake.

Her head rises from Lena’s chin, moving closer to her ear.

“ _Lena,_ ” she says and there’s so much _want_ in her voice that Lena breathes in hard.

It’s even better than she anticipated. She feels her pulse quickening and her head reels. Blood rushes to her head and she thinks she might be blushing. She doesn’t care. The high of her name being said in _that way_ overshadowing any embarrassment she might have felt otherwise.

 _It’s just your name,_ she thinks to herself. But God does she like the way it sounds on the other’s lips.

In another moment of braveness, or perhaps weakness, she leans back and relaxes her body, coming to rest flush against the others body. Widowmaker responds by holding her upright with her one arm, the other still on her hip. She’s effectively supporting Lena from dropping onto the ground.

“Hmm,” she hums melodically and Lena feels herself shivering again. She likes this, this vulnerability and powerlessness. She’s always fighting, always trying to come out on top, with words, with actions, always aiming to win. She’s always standing on her own two feet. It’s nice to simply _stop_ and depend on someone else. Give away the control.

She thinks she might lose it when the woman behind her begins to draw soft circles with her fingers on her hip. The movement leaves a trail of fire in its wake. She trembles, her legs threatening to give out under her, Widowmaker’s arm being the only think that’s keeping her standing.

In an attempt to steady herself she puts her own hand back to rest on the other’s hip, digging her fingers in almost desperately. She hears Widowmaker’s breathing quicken behind her. It’s maddening.

Her own breathing isn’t much better. Her eyes are lidded, she’s blushing and her pulse is thrumming in her ears. She can’t think clearly. The touches are makes something in her stomach churn pleasantly and she feels herself heating up to her core.

What a mess she is.

She can’t do anything but focus on the hand on her hip, drawing  circles wider and wider, covering more area until she starts all over again with the smallest circle. She changes which fingers she’s using and how much pressure she’s applying ever so often, giving Lena no chance to adjust to the sensation.

She gasps audibly when the fingers suddenly shift to scratching her skin, leaving trails of red marks though her clothes. She arches her back in response, pressing parts of her body against Widowmaker hard.

“Lena,” Widowmaker repeats behind her, sounding more desperate and raw than before.

Lena herself is powerless to do anything but letting it happen.

She doesn’t understand. Doesn’t understand why the other woman has so much power over her. The slightest touch is enough to make her melt. Makes her want to raise her palms in surrender and drop to her knees. To let the other do whatever it is she wants to do to her. But whatever it is, she badly wants more of it.

It’s the programming, she tells herself.

 _But_ , a nagging voice in her head says, _in other instances your voice of reason never left you. There was always the real you resisting at the core._

There’s nothing inside her that doesn’t want to be here right now.

She wants this. _All_ of her wants this.

But what does she want exactly? What do both of them want?

“I want,” she begins weakly and raises her free hand helplessly, not knowing how to continue.  “I want to…” she attempts again but the words won’t come.

Widowmaker stops her touches abruptly. Lena almost whines when the hand is removed from her hip.

“No,” the sniper says roughly. “You don’t.”

In one fluid motion she moves her hands to the small of Lena’s back and pushes her forward hard enough to make her stumble forward.

Almost she crumples to the ground, but the strength in her legs returns just in time and after a few wobbly steps she regains her balance.

“Not really,” Widowmaker finishes in a flat voice.

Lena turns around and looks at her face. She’s staring at the ground hard. Lena can just make out her eyes in the dark. There’s something angry in them.

When Widowmaker looks up to meet her eyes she’s pushed the emotions down and her stoic look has returned.

“Go to bed, cherie,” she says. “It is morning already and we only have time for a couple hours of rest.”

With that she turns her back and gets into her bed, leaving Lena standing there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. But continuing to stand there is the least of what she wants to do. She breathes in deeply, pushing down the feverish feelings from before.

Defeated and confused she heads to bed as well. What did she do wrong?

She only manages to mule over it for some time, as sleep begins to overtake her within minutes. She was more tired than she thought.

The last thoughts on her mind before she drifts off is the feeling of Widowmaker’s touch and that sound of wanting in her voice.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up the next day she quickly concludes she must have overslept. Widowmaker is nowhere to be seen, either.

She hurriedly makes her way to the training grounds. Along the way she meets an equally late Moira, who has bags under her eyes. Moira looks at her as if she wants to reprimand her for being late, but then seems to realize she’s not on time herself.

“It’ll do,” she concludes.

When they reach the grounds together they are greeted by Sombra and Widowmaker sparring. It’s evident by their expressions Sombra is just messing around, but Widowmaker’s face adorns a serious look. She’s going all out. There’s something hard in her eyes.

The fight only lasts for minutes before Sombra has to surrender.

“Hmm, she’s changing, don’t you think?” She hears Moira say besides her. It doesn’t sound good or bad, just a general observation.

Yes, she definitely is. And Lena knows for sure she’s part of the reason why.

Quietly she resolves to find out more. She’s determined to figure out the sniper.

But how to begin?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you pause the fanfic at the right moment you pinpoint the exact moment where my will broke and I gave the other Talon operatives more personality besides 'evil'. 
> 
> Also I started writing this as a lame excuse to write smut but here we are, 4 chapters and 16000 words of world-building and character development further without so much as a single kiss. 
> 
> Eh.


	5. Missions and mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lena is a cheeky brat, but we love her anyway.

 

Lena Oxton has a plan.

It’s not a good plan. In fact, it’s likely a bad plan. Probably dangerous too.

But it’s a plan nonetheless.

She’s going to push Widowmaker. Emotionally, that is. She’s going to draw her out and push her until she takes whatever it is that she wants. Wants to push her over the edge that Widowmaker is so heavily guarding.

Because Widowmaker is definitely stopping herself from _something._ And Lena is going to find out what that something is.

For that she needs patience, however. She’s going to have to play the long game.

She smiles to herself, feeling giddy.

Definitely a bad plan.

But _man,_ is she looking forward to executing it.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days pass by uneventfully, much to Lena’s dismay. _Patience._

Widowmaker is very subtle about it, but she’s definitely avoiding Lena. She also makes sure they’re alone as least as possible, going to bed early and rising early was well. Lena is patient, however, and waits for the opportunity to set her plan in motion.

That chance presents itself when they get assigned on another mission. This time it’s a bigger mission, and the other Talon operatives join in as well. It’s not against Overwatch this time either. Lena breathes a sigh in relief.

It’s against a ring of smugglers. They’ve started a ring in the middle of Talon territory. And Talon is, Lena has noticed, _very_ possessive of its property. They will not tell Lena what the smugglers are smuggling, making her think Talon just might be interested in the smuggled wares themselves.

They’re deployed in the middle of the night, starting their mission.

At the same time Lena’s solo mission; Operation Lure out the Spider, begins as well.

They’re in a small city Lena doesn’t recognize. The road signs seem to be in Cyrillic, narrowing down their possible location somewhat. She can’t read Cyrillic though, so she can’t make out where they are.

There’s exactly three large buildings close to their target location. Widowmaker sets up camp in the top window of one of them. It’s an office building, so it’s abandoned at this time of night. Lena is strategically placed on the roof of a lower building in front of the sniper, giving both of them perfect view and coverage of each other. The smugglers are expected to come for Widowmaker, as they are likely to have various homing weapons in their possession. It’s Lena’s job to intercept them.

The mission starts calmly for them. It’s Sombra who infiltrates first. When she’s in far enough she gives a signal for the others to enter as well, causing the smugglers to be attacked from both inside and outside.

Lena watches as about two dozen or so Talon agents pour in and begin their attack. Doomfist is somewhere in the middle of the fray, flanked by Reaper. Moira follows the group from behind, healing whenever necessary and keeping the group together.

They disappear inside. It’s quiet for a long few moments. No movement, no sounds, nothing.

Then thunder cracks behind her and she watches a vague humanoid shape slump to the ground at the side of the building. She hadn’t even detected the movement herself, yet Widowmaker managed to get a precise enough aim to take them out in one hit. Lena gulps when she’s reminded of the sheer skill the spider has. For a moment her determination to go on with the Plan wavers, but she pushes the doubt aside.

Seconds later the sky seems alight when havoc breaks out on the streets below. Numerous people pour out of the building, weapons at the ready. They’re chased by Talon agents, but Talon is vastly outnumbered. Widowmaker begins to pick them off one by one and even Lena manages to get the drop on a few from her high position.

It doesn’t take long for them to notice Widowmaker, and several commands are shouted. A number of smugglers come for the building she’s located in. Lena has to think quickly. They are with too many for Widowmaker to handle on her own. But she was supposed to wait for the smugglers to use homing weapons. They’re not doing any of that though, and instead break through the glass doors of the higher building, before making their way inside.

She takes out as many as she can. Widowmaker can’t do anything but watch her as she can’t aim her rifle down in that angle. Lena takes a moment to smile up towards the sniper, knowing she’s being looked at though the scope. It’s unprofessional to say the least, but it is all part of the Plan.

She blinks off the building and makes it to an open window on the other one, blinking inside. She can hear footsteps coming from below. She throws a pulsebomb down the staircase, laughing when she hears panic erupt down below. After that she rushes up the stairs.

Moments later she reaches the room where Widowmaker is located, who is still taking out people on the street below. It occurs to Lena that she must have known the smugglers and Lena were entering the building. Yet she didn’t attempt to fight them or escape, instead fully relying on Lena to cover her. It’s oddly sweet.

Widowmaker turns when she hears Lena blink inside the room. Her golden eyes are full of life, a result from her recent activities. Lena finds herself staring hard for a second, enthralled by the sight of her.

She shakes it off when she’s reminded of the Plan. This is the perfect opportunity.

She blinks forward, reaching the sniper in a single step, who is still perched in a kneeling position in front of the window. Lena casually puts a hand on the small of her back, amused when she feels the other stiffen at her touch.

“They’ll be here in a sec, love,” she says as naturally as she can muster. “Time to shift gears.”

She takes what little time they have left to slowly move her fingers up and down the other’s lower back, effectively caressing her. Widowmaker stares at her, eyes still full of fire but something else creeps its way into them as well. It’s that longing again. She sits there unmoving for just a moment too long for it to be reasonable.

She abruptly gets up when she notices the mirth in Lena’s eyes, however.

She huffs quietly to herself before switching her rifle to its short range mode, moving towards the door. Lena laughs to herself and joins up with her. Mission success.

Widowmaker begins to advance in an attempt to get the drop on the enemy. Lena passes her by and dashes ahead. She drops another pulsebomb down the staircase, the timer having long reset, and behind her Widowmaker throws a venom mine down the last set of stairs.

The beeping of the pulsebomb divides the enemy soldiers into two. A group of them hurries back down the stairs, the rest rush further upstairs, attempting to leave the blast range. The first few men spot the venom mine and attempt to halt their advance or try to dodge it. The rest doesn’t however, and they blindly push them ahead. A couple of them manage to avoid the mine, but several others either step or are pushed into the mine, which angrily explodes in a burst of purple smoke. A chorus of coughing erupts from the grunts.

It’s a mess, almost something you’d see in a movie. One of those old ones about super heroes and villains. Lena can’t help but laugh at the sight.

The poison fuels the anger of the smugglers however, and they begin to charge at Lena in a rage, opening fire. She quickly regains her senses and dodges the incoming heap of men. She opens fire herself, hearing Widowmaker do the same behind her.

The smugglers are angry and uncoordinated, but they are tenacious and cruel. Lena began with firing at their legs, aiming to incapacitate rather than kill. (Unlike Widowmaker, she sighs disappointedly to herself.) But after several near misses to her head, with added barbaric commentary, she woefully gives up on that idea.

The scuffle continues for some time. Lena relies on her conditioning to point her in the right direction, now having little to no problem channeling it. It makes the fight a breeze. A fun one, at that.

It quickly becomes less of a breeze when the enemy is suddenly called back, and a moments later several men with large, odd looking guns emerge from them.

Ah, those must be the homing weapons Talon as talking about.

They must have gotten here unnoticed during the commotion.

The men fire the guns all at once. Despite Lena and Widowmaker standing at about the same distance from them all of the bullets go into Lena’s direction. It confuses her for a single instance, then realizes it’s likely because the snipers pulse and temperature are too low for the thermal system of the bullets to detect.

It’s too many for her to dodge, they’re coming from every direction. She hears Widowmaker yell her name, her codename, when she’s hit. That’s nice of her, she thinks.

Pain erupts though her body as the bullets hit her and white heat flashes before her eyes.

She’s not going down that easily, however.

Before it’s too late, she quickly recalls. Time unravels in front of her as the bullets leave her body. A split second later she reappears slightly to the left of where she was standing. 

The enemy seems confused by her sudden movement and Tracer takes the opportunity to charge at them, Widowmaker doing the same next to her. Lena sheaths her blasters in favor of hand to hand combat, hoping the enemy won’t be able to fire at her from such close range. Widowmaker resorts to using her trusty rifle as a blunt weapon. They manage to take down the majority of the homing weapon carrying men before they recuperate.

The fights continues.

They scuffle for a while, Lena gets the feeling that the enemy group doesn’t seem to be getting smaller. She looks down the stairs. More enemies keep pouring in, hurrying up the stair. Her suspicions are confirmed. This isn’t good.

Slowly but surely the two of them are being driven back into the room. It’s not good, they have much less freedom to move around in there, something that Lena depends on heavily. On top of that they’re threatened to be overwhelmed.

Not good at all.

Widowmaker needs to escape. Keeping her safe is the main priority.

“Go through the window!” She yells at her.

Widowmaker gives her a questioning look, as if it’s something preposterous to suggest.

“Just go,” Lena pleads. “I’ll be fine. I’ll blink my way past them, I can do that. I’ll meet you outside.”

She’s not actually sure she can do that, but she hopes Widowmaker doesn’t figure that out.

By the looks of it, she does.

“Don’t be ridiculous, cherie,” she all but spats, taking down an enemy to the left of her. “You don’t know how many there are still down there.” Another enemy goes down. “You can only blink so many times in a row.” Another.

It’s clear she will not go.

Lena is getting desperate.

“Please,” she pleads again, her conditioning reaching high levels of awareness. Widowmaker doesn’t grace her with a response, instead focuses on taking down enemy after enemy.

They’re closing in on them. The both of them are now almost caught in between the wall and the incoming horde of enemies.

Lena gets an idea. If she can enter the mass of enemies and release a pulsebomb she will possibly take out enough to tip the scales in their favor. It’s risky, but worth a shot.

She’ll think about not getting caught in the blast herself when the moment is there.

Without thinking more about it she charges into the mass of enemies, hearing Widowmaker scream her name behind her.

The crowd surrounds her and it doesn’t take long before they start to overwhelm her. She blinks rapidly back and forth taking down as many as she can.

She uses her pulsebomb in an attempt to create some distance between her and the others.

It’s in vain. Before long they close in in her again.

She gets hit by fists and grazed by bullets too quickly and she doesn’t get much time to recover. She’s stumbling and threatens to fall to the ground. If she does it’s all over.

Before that can happen, however, a strange noise registers in her ears. Like something is being drained.

A large purple orb moves past her, seemingly sucking the energy of the smugglers surrounding her.

Realization hits her.

A split second later the good doctor appears from thin smoke. Lena didn’t think she’d ever be this happy to see the red haired woman. Moments later Reaper appears as well.

Moira raises her arm in her direction and quickly her pain dissipates. Her strength flows back into her body as she watches Reaper join up with Widowmaker to take care of the enemy grunts.

The fight is in their favor now, with Reapers close range abilities and Moira firing her multi hitting damaging orbs one after the other.

The remaining amount enemies dwindles quickly, and eventually they call for retreat. Relief washes over Lena.

Widowmaker takes out a few of the fleeing smugglers, clearly unable to resist.

“Thought you were taking long,” Moira says after the last of the enemy grunts either fall to the ground or disappears. “We didn’t notice very quickly, but nearly all the smugglers that escaped from the building went straight into this one. We didn’t expect that. We anticipated that especially the guys with homing equipment would stay outside.”

Lena is too relieved about not dying to be angry.

She plops to the ground, sitting cross legged and gives herself a moment to catch her breath.

“It’s alright,” she says. “Thanks for coming.”

Widowmaker doesn’t say anything.

She remains silent as well when the group makes their way to the rendezvous point, meeting up with Sombra and Doomfist minutes later. Lena thinks they might have some talking to do.

She sleeps again on the short flight back.

They’re invited into the living quarters of the other agents this time as well. Lena happily drinks another cup of tea and listens intently when the other members of Talon tell of their experience tonight. It’s much later already this time and it doesn’t take long before the other operatives decide to head to bed, tired from their mission as well.

When they reach their chambers Widowmaker closes the door behind them loudly.

“Never do that again,” she begins immediately, her voice harsh.

“What do you mean?” Lena asks innocently, feigning ignorance.

It’s in vain.

“You know very well what I mean, cherie.” Her eyes are hard and her voice is strained.

Alright so it was a bad plan. She could probably have come up with something better if she had given herself some time to think rationally. Something that would have kept them both safe. But she simply gave in to her programming instead, headfirst too.

She grins sheepishly and puts her arm behind her head awkwardly.

“Well it’s all good now, isn’t it? Made it out alive and all,” she says dismissively.

Widowmaker reaches her in two large steps and shoves her back forcefully, making Lena do a step back to steady herself.

“That is _not_ the correct answer.”

Lena hangs her head.

“It was stupid, thoughtless and did you even think about the consequences at all?” Widowmaker continues angrily.

Before Lena can speak up, explain that in her defense, things would have looked _much_ better if Widowmaker had just listened to her first plan, Widowmaker begins to rant.

It’s in French however.

And Lena does not speak French.

It sounds nice though.

Lena lets her continue, thinking she’ll finish in a sentence or two. She does not, and instead keeps on talking. She was right, Lena thinks to herself. She shouldn’t have been so thoughtless. It was definitely a bad plan. But, she thinks, she can use the outcome of this bad plan for the _Plan._

She waits for the other woman to finish, almost smiles in amusement when it takes several long moments for her to do so.

“I didn’t know you cared so much, love,” she begins coyly, conveniently ignoring the French lecture she just got.

Widowmaker’s eyes widen and she blinks a few times before she regains her composure.

“That is not what we are discussing here.”

“But it is what I am most interested in.”

Widowmaker stares at her angrily.

“Tracer…” she says warningly.

Lena thinks that if she can say _just_ the right amount of words in _just_ the right tone of voice she might just make the other woman snap. It’s worth a shot.

She closes in on the other, standing on her tiptoes and leaning in slightly so she’s just standing close enough for it to be socially inappropriate. But only just.

“Do you not care for me, then?” She asks, again sounding as innocently as possible.

Widowmaker looks away, avoiding her eyes.

“No, I do not,” she says mutely, the lie practically dripping from her words.

“Oh,” Lena says in mock hurt, then grins. “You gave off a whole different idea the other day though, when you were practically moaning my name.” It’s rude to bring up, especially like this, but if she wants to get to the other woman she has to.

She thinks Widowmaker might slap her. She thinks Widowmaker might think so too.

Several long moments pass by without either of them saying a word.

Widowmaker stares at her with an expression that’s impossible to read, eyes wide and her body frozen stiffly in place.

Then, she breaks into a grin, her body suddenly all grace again.

“Oh, cherie,” she coos and places a hand on Lena’s rapidly heating cheek, stroking it softly. “I didn’t realize you had such… amorous feelings for me,” she continues in _that tone_ and Lena feels her earlier confidence drain quickly.

“But it’s not you, it’s _me,”_ she says in mocking sadness. Lena shivers. “I’m afraid I do not feel. Nothing at all. I’m merely a weapon, you see.”

Lena realizes what she’s doing. She’s hiding behind jokes and intimidation and her supposed incapability to feel in an attempt to save grace, to hide what she really feels and wants. It’s what she always does. A mocking sentence, sensual body language, a stoic expression and she easily dances through the more complicated situations, making sure no one ever gets too close, that no one notices just how much she _feels_.

Lena will not let her worm herself out of this one though.

She leans into the hand still touching her cheek and closes her eyes. “Hmm,” she says softly, making extra sure to put emotion in her tone. “This feels so nice though,” she follows up, completely ignoring Widowmaker’s comments. “Please, don’t stop,” she murmurs, not even having to alter her tone voice this time

She thinks that, if her calculations are correct, (they’re shoddy at best) Widowmaker will not be able to resist if Lena puts enough effort in keeping this up.

For the slightest of moments Widowmaker’s hand falters, and Lena feels a light tremor in her hand.

Then, she gently continues stroking her cheek.

Lena enjoys the feeling for a moment, eyes remaining shut.

Feeling brave, she blindly moves her hands to either side of the sniper and lets them rest there, careful not to make it too intimate. Widowmaker, in response, moves her hand to put a stray stand of Lena’s hair behind her hear, taking a moment to softly stroke the spot there. It elicits a quiet gasp from Lena. Seemingly encouraged by the sound, Widowmaker moves her fingers into Lena’s hair, pulling lightly. Lena has to stifle a moan. Then the hand moves on, lower, to her jaw. She moves her hand to gently cup her chin. Every touch feels so good, Lena things, it’s hard to not make sounds. She doesn’t however, as she’s scared it will drive the other away.

After some more stroking and touching Widowmaker’s hand eventually dips even lower, ghosting over the side of Lena’s neck and eventually settling around her throat, not hard enough to be uncomfortable but also strong enough to make it impossible to ignore. Lena finds herself inadvertently craning her neck, giving the other better access.

She’d be so easy to kill right now, Lena idly thinks. One quick movement and her neck would snap. She wouldn’t even realize it, dead before her body would hit the floor. With just that single touch Widowmaker holds so much power over her, in more ways than one. The thought that she’d willingly letting Widowmaker do this to her, give her that power, feels so good. It makes her stomach churn pleasantly and her thoughts cloudy.

Lena hazily opens her eyes and finds the sniper staring at her throat with utmost concentration, her hand unmoving, as well as her intense gaze.  It’s endearing somehow, Lena thinks. There’s no malice in her eyes, and the longing seems no longer pained. Instead she seems to be simply enjoying herself. Lena wonders what the other is thinking. What does she want, feel? Possibilities like ‘wanting’, ‘killing’, ‘touching’, ‘more’, ‘kissing’ and ‘lust’ cross her mind.

Wait. Kissing? Lena thinks about it. Does she want to kiss Widowmaker, who is holding her life in her hands right now? And does Widowmaker want to kiss her as well? The thought hadn’t occurred to Lena before. Though, if she’s honest with herself, she came damn close to wanting to be kissed by Widowmaker when she was all but moaning her name. And then there’s lust. Does she feel lust for Widowmaker? And the other for her? Her body grows hot at the thought and she takes in a deep breath before pushing the thoughts away. She definitely can’t handle these thoughts in such a compromising situation.

The sniper, alerted by the other’s rise in body temperature and her change in breathing, looks up to meet Lena’s eyes. Seemingly feeling caught, she smiles weakly.

“Ah, I…” she begins, and with some hesitation she removes her hand, bringing it close to her chest instead, the gesture oddly feminine. “I should not have teased you like that,” she finishes, looking slightly guilty.

Lena smiles broadly in return, dropping her arms to her sides. “Same,” she agrees.

Something comfortable settles between them. This is much better than the awkward, abrupt endings from before, she thinks.

All in all she considers it a success. She might not have pushed Widowmaker over the edge, but she thinks that she made her take a step closer to it willingly.

When they head to bed it’s still in that comfortable silence. It’s already morning when Lena finally crawls under the blankets.

She smiles to herself. Things are going well for a change.

But she’s definitely not giving up on the Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I'm having a lot of fun writing this so I hope you've enjoyed reading it thus far. Comments make my day and I'd like to reply to every single one of the, but then I'd clog the comment section full of my own comments.


	6. Fire

_Rushing though my veins_

_Burning up my skin_

 

 

They get sent on another mission the next day. Lena and the other Talon agents seem equally miffed by it. They argue that they need some time to rest but the people in charge of arranging the missions will not budge.

“You were told early enough,” they say. “Take the rest of the day off and take that time to rest and prepare. We expect you to be ready at twelve pm.” With that they hand over the files containing the details surrounding the mission and they turn to leave.

It’s a follow up of the mission they did the previous night, Lena reads, explaining why they have to be deployed again so soon. Some of the guys that got away actually took some more dangerous tech with them and fled to a village nearby. They’re expected to wreak havoc with the weapons there when night falls, in an attempt to make the villagers flee.

Lena feels anger rise inside her, this is not something she can just let happen why she idly watches. This time her goals align with Talon and she’s eager to be deployed. She’d be lying to herself if she’d say she wasn’t enjoying previous missions too, though. But this time it’s different. There’s innocent lives at stake.

They lounge around for the rest of the day. Lena considers taking the Plan a step further but decides against it. Not worth risking to have an agitated sniper for the mission to come. They need to be able to work together. Instead Lena takes to wandering the corridors, attempting to familiarize herself with the layout. It helps a little.

Afterwards she returns to find Widowmaker reading. Lena spends the rest of the day napping, herself.

 

* * *

 

They arrive hours later, landing in a forest close to where the village is supposedly located. They begin to make their way towards the village. The forest smells nice, mainly consisting of pine trees. Lena momentarily forgets about the mission at hand when she sees a little stream, adorned with rocks and the like. She gleefully points it out to Widowmaker, who just smiles at her in return. God, she’s such a city slicker, Lena thinks to herself, getting excited at a stream.

She laughs quietly when Moira gets hit in the face with a branch. She watches Moira giving the entire forest the most intimidating look in return. The forest leaves her be, after that.

Perhaps Lena’s inexperience when it comes to forests isn’t as bad as she thinks.

When they reach the edge of the forest it becomes clear the party started without them. They hear screams and gunfire in the distance, coming from the village. They rush ahead.

There’s not much of a plan. It comes down to ‘chase out the smugglers and retrieve whatever it is they still have’. The mission should be easy enough. All of the agents that were present the day before are here, while there’s only a fraction of the smugglers left. The rest is either dead, incapacitated or has fled instead.

They are met with fleeing villagers when they enter the town. At first they get confused and hopeful looks, then some of the villagers recognize the Talon logo and they’re avoided like the plague. Lena feels bad about it, not being used to being treated like that.

They soon encounter the first runaway smugglers, they’re driving around in stolen cars at high speeds, shooting into the sky with their weapons. Much to Lena’s relief they’re not actively aiming for the villagers, instead they’re just attempting to chase them out.

It doesn’t take long until she and the Talon agents are spotted, immediately they signal their presence to each other and moments later numerous cars come for them from several directions.

There’s exactly one high building in the village. It’s the church, located in the center of town. They’re still nowhere close to that, however, and Widowmaker resigns to fighting on the ground and the roofs of homes instead, while slowly making her way over to the church tower.

It’s not exactly a difficult battle. It becomes painfully apparent that the smugglers aren’t exactly trained in shooting from a moving vehicle. Honesty, they can’t aim for shit, or joyride for that matter. Several cars get stuck, running out of space while attempting a sharp turn, or because of some other miscalculation.

No, the fight isn’t hard, but boy is it _fun._ Lena dances through bullets and oncoming cars, moving ahead of Widowmaker, who takes her time aiming from nearby roofs.

About half an hour later they reach the church and Widowmaker quickly uses her hookshot to make her way to the top, coming to a land in the space where the large bell is located.

Annoyed, Lena huffs, breaks through the wooden door with her blasters and begins to make her way up the stairs instead.

Even with her blinking abilities and speed it takes some effort. When she reaches the top a little while later, panting and almost out of breath, Widowmaker is perched on one knee, taking out target after target. She pauses to look up at Lena and gives her a knowing smile.

“Took you long enough, cherie.”

“Shut up, please.”

“But I mean it. I was beginning to worry you had ran into some sort of trouble,” she continues, obviously amused.

Lena leans against the stone wall and takes a moment to catch her breath, all the while giving the other an annoyed look.

She recovers quickly enough and more as a lack of having something else to do than anything she joins Widowmaker, kneeling down next to her and focuses on the targets spread along the village sprawling out beneath them.

Widowmaker takes down target after target with deadly precision. Lena… manages to take out a few as well. It’s not easy aiming from so far up high. She can hear the other woman laugh quietly when she misses a target multiple times in a row. Frustrated, she wonders why she even came up all the way.

She gets her answer a few moments later when she hears several footsteps making their way up the stairs of the church tower. Lena quickly leaves her post near the window and rushes towards the staircase, readying a pulsebomb.

“The sniper is up here!” she hears, and another wave of annoyance washes over here. _She’s here too, you know._

In one swoop she throws down the pulsebomb, hearing it drop down all the way towards the advancing men. They get about a second to express their surprise (and hopefully their regret at ignoring her) before it explodes. She hurries down several flights of stairs before she meets up with the remaining few smugglers. Its three men and a woman and they’re holding big weapons. They’re not suited for combat in such a cramped space, however. Lena charges at them and begins to take them down one by one. The enemy seems to care little for friendly fire, aiming at Lena despite the risk of hitting each other. She blinks in front one of the grunts and waits until the other four fire, then blinks away laughing. He goes down moments later.

The rest go down easily enough. That is, until the final one begins to panic and, in a blind rage, forgoes tactics over simply shooting as much as he can. Much to Lena’s surprise, one of the bullets manages to graze the side of her leg. She winces as she watches blood begin to pour out. It’s not enough to slow her down, luckily, and the last one goes down moments later.

She realizes she’ll have to make her way up the damn stairs again, now with a bleeding leg that’s surprisingly, not hurting at all.

She curses.

Minutes, quite a few damn _minutes_ she finally makes her way to the top of the stairs again. She’s annoyed and _so_ not ready for another one of those damn condescending comments or smirks from the sniper.

When she finally turns around the corner, however, the long and painful trip she just took is already long forgotten, for what she finds there makes it completely worth it.

The battle must be over because Widowmaker is lying stretched out on her back, arms behind her head and with closed eyes. She’s laying on the edge of where the wooden flooring ends and where the large bell hangs in the middle of the tower. Therefore Widowmaker is lying next to a large hole, into which she has one leg dangling lazily. The rays of the sun hit the place where she is lying _just_ right and her purple skin looks illuminated in the dancing light.

It’s a breathtaking sight. To see her in such a languid manner lazing around in the sun, a dazzling contrast with what she was doing mere minutes ago. She’s a dangerous killer, who is essentially sunbathing without a care in the world. She reminds Lena painfully much of a large species of cats, who takes to sunbathing in a high tree after a fresh kill and a full belly. It’s mesmerizing to look at.

And that’s what she’s doing for as long as she can. Simply looking. Taking in the sight, forever to remember. She wants every detail memorized.

The moment can’t last though, sad as it is. They never do.

“I smell blood,” Widowmaker says, still not opening her eyes.

“Uh, yeah, it’s uh, mine, bullet just grazed my leg, that’s all” Lena shamefully admits. Then with much more vigor “Should have seen the others though! Not a single one of them is still standing!”

“Good, I’m proud of you, Cherie.” Widowmaker all but purrs, sending pleasant shivers down Lena’s spine.

Silence falls between them for just a moment longer and Lena cherishes the tranquility of it. To have this incredibly skilled assassin, who could kill her in numerous ways in a mere heartbeat lie sprawled out on the floor before her, it’s such a power reversal. She trusts Lena enough to let her be seen like this, this vulnerable position. It’s... mesmerizing, breathtaking… they all don’t cut it. Frantically she searches for a better word.

She thinks of every words she can think of related to this but non seem to quite describe how it feels. Until…

_Overwhelming._

That’s it. It’s overwhelming and she can’t cope, but it’s so so good.

It’s positively overwhelming to have this master assassin who could kill her at the blink of an eye trust you enough to sunbathe while you stand there staring at her and even her rifle, which is lying next to her, Lena thinks to herself.

Suddenly the rifle catches her attention, after forcing her gaze away from Widowmaker first.

A plan creeps itself into Lena’s mind.  It’s the Plan again. She smiles to herself, feeling giddy at the possible thrill and risk she’s about to experience.

“Widowmaker,” she begins carefully. “Could you open your eyes for me?”

Somewhat lazily the woman obliges, opening her eyes slowly, finding Lena’s eyes immediately.

What Lena sees is even more positively overwhelming, she thinks.

Amber eyes full of life, and mirth and passion and all the good things in life.

From all the killing she did just now, Lena thinks _._ It’s so incredibly beautiful. She finds herself wishing she could stare into the others eyes endlessly.

“It’s nice,” she manages to stutter out. “Your eyes I mean. They look nice so full of life.” Her voice doesn’t sound much better this time either and she mentally kicks herself.

“You know what I just did right?” Widowmaker asks, though it’s more of a rhetorical question.

“You killed all those people, I know that.” Lena responds just a little too quickly.

“Yes, and that is why my eyes are like this. They’re full of _life_ because I took theirs.” She props herself up on her arms and looks at Lena daringly.

“I know you shot them, I’m trying to say that that knowledge doesn’t make you any less beautiful for me.” Lena manages to say, with more determination in her voice even.

Widowmaker didn’t seem to expect such an answer, her eyes widen in surprise and she doesn’t respond immediately

“It means that you’re feeling really good right now, right?” Lena continues. “I think that’s it for me. I like that, that you’re feeling good, no matter the circumstances.”

“Even if it means I just shot and killed several dozens of people?” Widowmaker’s voice is thin and vulnerable now.

“Yes,” Lena says breathlessly. “Even then.”

Several long moments pass by without either saying a thing, both lost in their mental turmoil.

Lena was going to do the Plan but got side swept by those _eyes._ The revelation that she wants Widowmaker to be happy was also new for her, personally.

And God knows what Widowmaker is thinking. She’s just staring at Lena, unblinking, unwavering in her resolve. But behind those eyes there’s definitely _something_ going on.

It’s Lena who speaks up first, much to her own surprise, but she’s adamant to continue with the Plan.

“Do you,” she begins and her voice croaks hard. Determined she continues. “Do you ever… think about shooting me, then?” She manages to get out of her mouth, almost stutteringly.

She’s looks braver on the outside than she really feels on the inside. On the inside she’s definitely panicking, and screaming at herself for daring to take this step and all sorts of thoughts cross her mind.

But the words have been said, and now she’ll have to live with the consequences.

Uncertainly she looks at Widowmaker, who’s fierily look is slowly being mingled with a predatory one.

“Why?” Is all she says, it sounds hard and she says the word a little too fast.

“Well, because before you’d use to shoot at me all the time, even got me good a couple of times. If it wasn’t for me recalling or getting to Mercy in time you would have gotten me permanently,” she says sheepishly, hiding her nerves as best as she can.

“That is true.” Comes the response in the same hard tone of voice.

“Then... did you enjoy that? Shooting at me. Did it make you feel alive when you managed to hit me, even just a little?”

Widowmaker looks at her questioningly before responding. “It did,” she says quietly.

Lena’s stomach does a double take. There it is, sweet, sweet confirmation that she enjoys shooting at Lena. She’s not sure if she should be happy at this new knowledge, but she sure as hell is.

“Hmm. So does that mean you still want to? To shoot me, I mean. Do you think about shooting me?” She says, repeating her earlier question.

For a moment they’re both still, neither moving a muscle.

Then Widowmaker seems to come alive both physically and mentally. She gets up in one smooth motion, grabbing her rifle and aiming it at Lena in the process.

Both her posture and the dark look in her eyes are intimidating to say the least. Not to mention the sniper rifle aimed at Lena’s chest.

“Are you baiting me, cherie? Because I strongly suggest you stop now. I only have so much self-control,” she says menacingly.

“Baiting isn’t the word I’d use. I’m more… curious, I think.” Lena says.

Inside of her there’s s turmoil of emotions. Her programming is not helping either. Pleasing Widowmaker and making her feel good? Definitely go for it. Dying in the process, however, not so good. Can’t protect your charge if you’re dead and all. She’s conflicted. Does she actually want the sniper to shoot her? The thought alone sends pleasant shivers down her spine.

_God._ She wants to be shot by Widowmaker.

As the realization dawns on her, her sanity seems to leave her. She doesn’t exactly know why she wants it, badly too, right now. She thinks her programming might have something to do with it but it’s definitely just a part. She just wants… Widowmaker to feel good, because of herself. She wants to be the one to give that to Widowmaker. It’s selfish and strange and not sane at all but the urge is so strong.

“I suggest you stop that too, then,” Widowmaker responds in a pained voice, waking Lena from her inner turmoil.

“No.” Lena says softly, yet oddly determined.

Instead she takes a step forward and watches Widowmaker’s eyes widen, the fire still dancing behind her eyes. Her posture turns rigid yet she remains where she is.

Another step forward.

Lena can see Widowmaker straining to remain from fidgeting with _something,_ anything she could get her hands on. She can’t because she’s holding the rifle.

Another step forward.

Widowmaker just stares at her,almost anxiously.

Another step forward.

She’s almost close enough to touch the rifle aimed at her now.

She begins to take another step but while her feet is in midair Widowmaker cries out.

“Please, cherie. Do not come any closer. I am not right of mind right now,” She says anxiously, almost pleadingly.

Lena pauses her step, remaining where she was instead.

“Widowmaker,” she asks gently. “Do you… do you want to shoot me right now?” She asks in the softest tone.

She’s playing with fire, with her life and she knows it.

For several long moments Widowmaker says nothing. Various expressions cross her face, it’s that longing again, that want, Lena wonders if it correlates with lust for the sniper.

They’re both quiet for what feels like way too long but not nearly enough when Widowmaker suddenly stands up straight, her body no longer rigid. The fire in her eyes comes alight and seems to take over.

“Yes,” she says breathlessly. “Yes, I do. Oh Lena, _mon Dieu_ , I want to shoot you, to hurt you, to kill you. It would feel so divine. I want to watch you crumple to the ground and hold you tightly as the life drains from your eyes. I want it so badly.” Widowmaker says, sounding delirious, and for a moment Lena thinks she might have pushed her too far and that she’ll be shot and killed here.

“But I will not.” Widowmaker says resolutely, steadying herself.

“Why?” Lena asks almost pleadingly.

“Because I don’t want you gone. I… I want you alive,” she says and laughs sadly to herself. “What a mess I am. My apologies for that.”

“ _We_ , you mean.” Lena responds.

The sniper gives her a questioning look.

“ _We_ are a mess. Because I… because I _want_ to be shot by you.”

Once again the room falls silent. Neither of them daring to think of what could happen next. It’s a mess, it really is, Lena thinks. Her mind urges her on, to ask to be shot, to beg for it. It’s on her mind and it makes it hard to think clearly. Idly she wonders if her programming is involved or if this is all her. It is a worrying thought.

Eventually the urge gets too strong.

“Non-fatally,” she says and her voice is no more than a whisper. “You can shoot me in the leg.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cherie.” Widowmaker responds, her voice thin.

“But you want it _and_ I want it. What’s the big deal then?” Lena says, getting braver now.

“But… I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

Widowmaker doesn’t have a response to that.

“I’d really like it,” Lena continuous in a soft tone. “If you’d shoot me, and maybe take care of me afterwards?”

The last bit seems to help, as the fire in Widowmaker’s eyes seem to light up again. She stares hard at Lena for a moment.

“In the leg then,” she says hoarsely, voice filled with want and restrain. Lena shivers, at the other’s voice, in anticipation, she doesn’t know.

Widowmaker aims at Lena, but instead of immediately going for the leg she begins to move the barrel of her gun all over Lena’s body. She takes a step forward so the barrel comes to rest against her throat. Lena gulps. She’s never been this close to death willingly. The barrel moves from her throat to her shoulder, carefully avoiding the chronal accelerator. Lena continuous to stare at amber eyes, which are now focused on her shoulder.

Lena realizes she’s likely calculating the damage it would do to each spot she rests her rifle on.

They go on for several moments, the barrel moving to various spots all over her body. It feels amazing, to be so close to dying. Keeps her on edge, adrenaline rushing though her veins and pleasant shivers running through her spine. Like she’s balancing herself on the edge of something great.

At last the barrel moves to rest slightly above her knee.

“Your opinion on this is definitive? Absolutely so?”

Lena nods, knowing her voice would fail her.

Widowmaker shifts the barrel ever so slightly, so that it’s located on the outer side of her upper leg, a little above her kneecap.

“Are you ready, then?”

Before Lena can finish nodding the harsh crack of gunfire rings in her ears. Moments later a hellish white pain sears through her left leg. She screams in pain and begins to lose her balance.

She’s vaguely aware of the bullet ending its trail with a hard collision against the wall behind her, the sound of the bullet hitting the ground  the only thing she focuses on, to distract herself from the pain.

 Her vision shifts to the other woman and Lena watches her hazily as she’s dropping her rifle and rushing over to her.

She’s caught in strong arms before she can fall over, and Widowmaker brings her gently to the ground. She props them both up so that Lena is sitting sideways in Widowmaker’s lap, held up by Widowmaker’s arm, her bleeding leg dangling in the air.

“Are you alright?” Is the first thing she asks.

“Yeah,” Lena manages to say shakily. She’s feeling dizzy and her leg hurts but she’ll manage.

“Good” Widowmaker responds. “I’ve shot you non-lethally, like you asked. You will not bleed out either.

“Alright,” Lena says weakly. “That’s good, then,”

“Oh, Lena, cherie. You did wonderful,” Widowmaker murmurs into her hair. “You can take so much. Thank you,” she adds, sounding near delirious again.

Lena shivers at her words. They’re so intense, so oddly _caring._ Like the sniper is proud of her. And boy does she want the sniper to be proud of her.

“How, how did it feel?” she asks curiously, meeting the others gaze.

The fire dancing behind Widowmaker’s eyes tell her enough. _Alive._ That’s what she’s feeling.

“Good,” she says in a strained voice. “I did not expect it to be that good.” Lena notices she’s trembling.

Ah, it’s overwhelming her.

“I did not…” Widowmaker continues. “I mean, if it’s you… It’s better if it’s you,” she concludes.

Lena decides to take it as a compliment. It’s special when she is her target, apparently.

She winces when the sniper suddenly begins to prod around her wound gently. It’s not a large one, her skin and a little bit of her flesh have been torn away by the bullet, but it’s not too deep to hit any muscles or other important bits.

She watches idly how Widowmaker takes her glove off and moves her fingers gingerly around the wound, seemingly checking if it’s as she expected. Lena watches a lot less idly and much more intensely when she notices how the others’s fingers become covered in her blood.

Lena realizes this was the other’s goal all along when she brings her fingers to her mouth and begins to lick the blood off.

Lena finds herself with her mouth open, frozen in place and all she can do is watch. The damn woman takes her time too, alternating between licking the blood off and outright sucking on her own fingers.

When she’s done her eyes search for Lena’s. When they do there’s a mirthful expression in them. “Now you’re mine,” she says, sounding almost giddy.

Lena worriedly thinks to herself that that might have happened some time ago already.

Widowmaker moves her hand back to the wound and looks at it.  “It’s going to leave a scar,” she says. “If you don’t go to Moira or any other healers, I mean.”

“Then I’m not going there,” Lena responds and smirks.

“You want it to scar?”

“I want _your_ scar on my body.”

Widowmaker looks at her with confusion, then realization and lastly, unrestrained happiness.

Yes, definitely hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely no one:  
> Lena: *Flirts in sniper*
> 
>  
> 
> Hope I didn't scare you all away with taking things a step further!


	7. Only skin

_I feel you move beneath me and I think about your blood_

_I taste your nakedness and know that every cell is bound to die_

_It's coded in your nuclei and written in your organs_

_And when there’s nothing left inside you then there might be room for me_

_And I’ll be only skin as well, our hollowness would set us free_

 

There’s a big grin on Lena’s face as the other holds her in a firm grip. They’re comfortable like this, so close to one another, their bodies touching in various places.

They talk a bit more, and this time Widowmaker speaks much more freely. With Lena still in her arm, all but on her lap sideways, she occasionally rests her head on top of Lena’s and brushes her hair with her free arm every now and then. At one point she laughs into Lena’s hair and it makes Lena feel like she’s on air. Widowmaker tells Lena about her work, how good it makes her feel and how hard it was to overcome the urge to give in to it non-stop.

“I had to let go of my name,” she says. “In order to become the efficient sniper I am now I had to let go of my past.”

She looks at Lena expectantly, like she surely will have questions now. Lena considers it, but decides against, thinking it might be too insensitive, especially now that the mood is so pleasant.

Instead she takes a far greater risk.

“I thought as much,” she begins softly. “I… I already know your true name. The one you originally had.” She meets Widowmaker’s eyes curiously, hoping the mood isn’t killed.

The sniper seems a little taken aback, and seems to be contemplating something.

“How?” She asks first, then, “And why haven’t you used it?” Her voice is soft, curious even.

Lena thinks for a moment.

“Sombra might be the best, but Overwatch has some people decent at gathering intel as well you know. Most of it is scrubbed clean though, or only for the ones in charge. They don’t want it to be general knowledge you were one of us. But some of the people I work with… they knew you, from before I mean. They ended up showing me some slightly less scrubbed files, there wasn’t much in it, but it had your name.”

Widowmaker listens on intently as Lena goes on, softly caressing her brown hair.

“And as why I’ve never used it, it felt inappropriate. I couldn’t know what that name means to you now, if it would trigger unpleasant memories, if you’d get angry or if it would make you sad. So I didn’t use it.”

“Hmm” the sniper says after a while. “That’s oddly proper from you,” she says and laughs quietly to herself.  “Thank you, for being so respectful about it.”

Lena brushes it off, saying it isn’t more than natural.

The burning question remains though. What were to happen if she would say that name?

She’s considering asking when Widowmaker’s communicator comes on. Reaper is checking in on them, asking if they’re still in the tower, if they’re wounded and if not why they’re not coming down, the fight is over after all.

Widowmaker quickly falls back in her professional persona, “Widowmaker here, we’ve took care of the remaining smugglers here, had a slight delay when some of them came up the stairs, Tracer got hit in the leg but it's nothing severe. We’ll be down in a moment.”

Reaper, seemingly happy with this answer responds that he’ll see them shortly, then, and switches the connection off.

Lena releases a sigh of relief. The sniper handled that well.

In an oddly intimate gesture Widowmaker tightens her grip on Lena slightly, nuzzling her face into her hair once more while the hand steadying her back gently begins to caress it instead. Her other hand moves to the wound once more and with a single finger she strokes it softly, drawing lazy circles around it and making Lena wince slightly.

“This is pleasant”, she murmurs into Lena’s hair. “I want to be closer to you,” she says in a much deeper voice.

The meaning of those words are just beginning to sink in when Widowmaker puts her arm under Lena’s leg, the other on her back steadying itself and with some effort, stands up carrying Lena in her arms.

She smiles at her for a moment before putting her softly on her feet in one smooth motion.  Lena wobbles a bit, instinctively not putting too much pressure on her injured leg. The sniper holds her a moment longer until Lena discovers that there isn’t that much pain and she steadies herself.

“Good as new,” she says and twirls around on her feet, making Widowmaker laugh quietly.

Lena thinks she’d do anything in the world to keep hearing that laugh.

They walk to the stairs together. Widowmaker checks if Lena is walking properly and if the wound isn’t bleeding too much, much to Lena’s amusement. After she’d seemingly been approved they make their way down the stairs, with even Widowmaker walking this time.

They reach the others soon enough. They are greeted in various ways, Sombra does a little wave, while Doomfist and Reaper do an informal salute. Then there’s a disgruntled Moira who immediately gives them a disapproving look.

“Took you long enough,” she says, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yeah, well we got into a scuffle!” Lena chips and raises her injured leg as if to prove a point.

Moira takes a long hard look at the wound and her eyes narrow even more.

“This happened to you? You got shot at point blank? That is… unlike you, to say the least.”

“Yeah…” Lena says sheepishly. “It was a real brawl, lots of big men in a cramped space, one must have slipped me by.”

Moira’s eyes briefly flash to Widowmaker, giving her a questioning look. Lena gulps. Did she figure it out? Widowmaker keeps her stoic look in her eyes, as if she’s not even aware she’s being looked at. After a long glance Moira seemingly decides against raising questions and mutters something about it’s good that she got away with minor injuries then.

They make their way to the jet in comparative calmness. It’s pleasant. Sombra and Reaper get into a discussion about the decrease of skill in enemy field operatives, but the increase of dangerous tech they use. Moira seems lost in thought as they walk. Amused, Lena thinks she might be dreading the forest trip. Akande- Doomfist, she reminds herself, comes up to her and Widowmaker and talks to them about their very different areas of expertise.

“Never been much for long distance attacks myself,” he says and manages to sound somewhat proud of it. “But what you do is real impressive.” he continues, gesturing at Widowmaker. “And you!” he focuses his attention on Lena now, “You’re too fast, impossible to hit,” he says and laughs to himself.

Lena laughs awkwardly with him. She always dreaded meeting him on the battlefield. On fist to her chronal accelerator and her battle would be over. Luckily he doesn’t seem so bad now.

When they reach the jet (after Moira drained the life of several members of the flora family) they’re all in good spirits.

The trip home goes by quickly enough, Lena even feels comfortable enough among the other Talon operatives to take a nap.

* * *

 

Hours later they’re all perched in the spacious living room again. Chatting and discussing the latest mission, this time with food and drinks. No one is drinking any alcohol, something that Lena had noticed earlier as well. It might just be professionalism, but Lena thinks it also might be because she and Widowmaker are present.

Lena is calmly sipping her tea, listening intently, when Moira suddenly makes her way over to her.

“May I ask you a question?” She asks.

“Um, yeah of course.”

“How exactly do you see us?” It doesn’t sound like an attack but Lena feels put on the spot regardless.

Nervously she shifts in her seat. “What do you mean?”

“If you were to describe us, Talon as an organization, what words would you use?”

There’s an underlying tone in her voice and Lena feels out of her depth.

“I, uhm…” she begins lamely. “I’m not sure. I, well… you’re terrorists I suppose,” she says and looks down, feeling oddly ashamed saying that. “That’s what Overwatch classifies you as, at least. Honestly, the general public too,” she adds.

“But that’s their classification. I’m asking what _you_ think of us.”

Lena suddenly becomes aware that the room has fallen silent. Everyone is listening.

She hangs her head. “I don’t know anymore,” she says softly, barely more than a whisper.

“Hmm?” Moira encourages her on.

“I mean, you do all kinds of bad, shitty things, spread chaos and terrorize the streets.” Lena says and looks at everyone in the room. “But then you come home and laugh like old friends. You’re not exactly evil. It’s confusing.”

“We’re not terrorists,” Sombra says from a few steps over, joining the conversation. “But we’re not the good guys either. Remember that well.”

Lena nods weakly.

“Extremists,” Moira says. “That is what we are. We all have our own individual goals, in varying degrees in terms of legality and ethics. Talon provides us a place and funding for us to work on those goals. That is all.”

“In turn we go on missions for them.” Sombra says, making her way over to Lena and Moira. “What the rest of Talon does, the higher ups, the grunts, God knows,” she laughs.

Lena feels a little relieved. They’re not good people, that’s for sure. And their goals are questionable at the least. But at least they don’t seem to be cruel about it. Just very pragmatic.

“It’s different for the two of you, however. Moira says and points over to her and Widowmaker, who’s listening intently. “You two didn’t get a choice. I did not… agree with the orders of weaponizing the two of you, not without consent.”

Lena swallows, her throat suddenly dry. This is the first time someone outright talks to them about this openly. Anxiously she listens on.

“I believe everyone should get a choice, and the two of you did not. I had my hand in that matter and I regret having to do so.”

“Yeah it’s real fucked up.” Sombra agrees. “We were told not to interact with the two of you in a friendly manner, for fear of ‘compromising the efficiency’ of you,” she says with disgust in her voice, then she grins. “As you can see we’ve strictly kept to those orders.”

Moira laughs and Lena feels her anxiety fade a little.

“We thought,” Moira begins, and suddenly she’s serious again. “That if we’d welcome the two of you into our lives a little you’d remember that you have a choice. And that maybe you would choose to stay with us. We don’t mean to hurry you, there is no haste.” She focuses on Widowmaker. “You’ve been here the longest, and Talon has been your home. It’s different for her,” she says pointing at Lena. “She has no choice but to stay with you, no matter where you go.”

Widowmaker doesn’t respond, though the look in her eyes makes it clear she’s heard everything

“This might be overwhelming,” Reaper says to Widowmaker, finally joining the conversation. “Do not feel alarmed. We want you to find out where it is you belong, at your own pace.”

It’s easily the nicest thing anyone has ever said to Widowmaker where Lena was present. No command, no threat, no subjugation. Just, a chance. The opportunity to make a choice.

It’s nice, nicer than she expected from these ‘villains’.

But.

That choice also involves Lena.

If Widowmaker chooses to stay and remain with Talon then surely Lena will have no choice but to follow. The possible prospect of such a future makes Lena feel sick to her stomach. She might like these people, but it’s not where she belongs. For the first time in a while she misses Overwatch.

“I,” Widowmaker suddenly speaks up. “Thank you, truthfully. I am unsure of what to do. But I will think it over. For now I would like to go to my room, please.”

“Do as you see fit,” Reaper responds.

Without as much as a glance at Lena Widowmaker leaves the room and her steps quickly fade in the distance.

Demurely Lena stays behind, taking an awkward sip of her tea. Her first urge is to go after Widowmaker, but she feels too awkward to leave. Perhaps the other might need some time alone too.

Sombra puts a hand on her shoulder.  “You will get through this too, somehow,” she says with so much sincerity in her voice Lena almost immediately believes her. 

She sighs.

“It’s all such a mess,” she laughs.

“Yeah,” Sombra agrees. “That it is.”

Lena remains in the living room for just short of an hour. The atmosphere has changed and the others are much more sympathetic and open to her, now that they can let their guard down. Lena can tell that Sombra, and even Moira and the others want to know what it’s like, how she feels, what’s between her and Widowmaker, but they refrain themselves from asking, only occasionally dropping the odd hint they’re interested.

“It’s like it’s magnetic,” she finds herself explaining. “No matter where she is or what she’s doing, I’m pulled to her. Always to her. It’s like she’s the north where my compass wants to go. Even in battle I always knows where she is.”

The others seem surprised by that.

“But is it also emotional?” Sombra asks.

“What do you mean?” Lena asks, but immediately regrets it, dreading the answer.

“Like what does it feel like? I understand it’s like a constant tug in your mind but how do you see her?”

_How does she see her?_

_Light,_ is the first word that comes to mind. An incredibly powerful, all-encompassing light that illuminates all of her features brilliantly. She’s so beautiful, everything about her is. Her voice, her face, her body but much more so her personality, she hides so much of it but there’s so much buried under all that stoic behavior. And when it surfaces out into the light it’s breathtaking, the moments she smiles, the moments she kills, the moments she feels alive.

Everything about her makes Lena feel alive. Makes her shiver and makes her blood rush hotly though her veins, makes it hard to breathe and it’s so tempting to give into it.

God she wants to give in so badly.

She looks up from the point of the table she was staring a hole into and notices the others look at her with slight amusement. Unable to help it she begins to blush and looks down once more.

“I don’t know,” She says to the table “I don’t know how to describe it. Too much… it’s too much.”

“It’s alright, Sombra says reassuringly. “I shouldn’t have asked.” Then she smiles. “Take good care of her will you? She deserves it.”

Lena manages to blush even deeper and much to her horror, she makes a pained, frustrated noise.

Even the others seem to find it endearing, laughing and telling Sombra to stop her vicious attack.

Sombra waves it off and says it’s time for her to catch some sleep. The others agree, except for Moira, who retreats because she wants to work on her research more. Before they leave they escort Lena out and Sombra walks her into the right direction. When they’re about halfway Lena begins to recognize the corridors, knowing that if she’ll take a left here she’ll get to the cafeteria, so the other direction is her chambers then.

She says her goodbyes to Sombra and heads into the long corridor herself.

After some walking, and only one dead end later she finds herself in front of their shared chambers. After some hesitation she knocks.

There’s no response. There’s no doubt that Widowmaker knows it’s her. With her artificially enhanced hearing she must have heard and recognized Lena’s footsteps from quite some distance already.

Lena sighs and gathers her wits. Then she opens the door.

She finds Widowmaker sitting on her bed, back leaning against the side of the wall that runs along the side of her bed, her knees pulled to her chest. She’s dressed down in just a shirt and shorts for the night, hair still in that characteristic ponytail. She doesn’t look up when Lena enters, instead she keeps looking down at her knees, seemingly deep in thought.

“Hello, love,” Lena begins gently. “How are you feeling?”

At that Widowmaker looks in her direction. Her eyes seem empty, but behind them swim all kinds of emotions.

“Hello,” is all she says weakly.

Lena is unsure of what to do. With Widowmaker’s gaze on her she dresses down to her underwear and puts on shorts and a shirt as well. She does the polite thing where she takes her bra off after she’s put her shirt on. A moment later she’s at a loss of what to do again.

She decides she has two options. She’s could go sit on her own bed and wait for the other to speak, very tempting. That or she goes to Widowmaker’s bed and sit with her, hoping that the intimacy will coerce her from whatever wall she surrounded herself with. The second plan needs bravery, but it’s also in line with the Plan of drawing her out of her shell.

After a moment of contemplating she gathers her courage and makes her way over to Widowmaker, who looks up in surprise.

Lena thinks to herself that sitting next to Widowmaker might be too provoking, might shut her down completely.

Instead she kneels when she reaches the edge of the bed and folds her arms on top of it, if she’d stretch them she could reach the snipers ankles. She places her head on her arms and looks up at Widowmaker, who is staring down at her, making the power dynamics clear.

“What do you need, love?” She asks softly.

A shift in Widowmaker’s eyes. But no response.

Not the right question then.

“Alright, what do you _want,_ then?

There’s a long silence and Lena almost starts thinking of another way to get the other woman to speak when a soft voice speaks up.

“ _You.”_

Lena looks up quicker than she thinks is humanely possible.

“I want you to say it.”

“What?” Lena asks.

“…My name. My real one. I want to hear you say it.” A small pause. “I think I need it.”

Oh.

_Oh._

That’s something Lena can work with.

They’re silent for a while. Widowmaker looks at her intently, curiously, almost frightened. It reminds Lena of a deer too scared to eat from your hand. So vulnerable is her quiet hope that things will be alright.

Lena props her arm up, now resting her head on her hands, her arms forming a triangle with the bed.

Widowmaker follows her eyes with trained precision.

She’s so vulnerable right now, Lena thinks.

It’s almost cruel.

She takes a slow breath.

Then she thinks of all the feelings she has for Widowmaker, letting them overwhelm her, overcome her. There’s longing and wanting and lust and everything else. She shivers pleasantly, never breaking eye contact, knowing the other watches every little change in her body.

She puts all the longing and wanting she feels into her voice and with all that turmoil present in her voice she speaks.

“ _Amélie”_ she breathes out and even she’s surprised how full of want it sounds.

“Amélie, I _want_ you.”

She can pinpoint the exact moment the lights go out in Widowmaker’s eyes. It was a direct hit while she was at her most vulnerable. All her walls have been smashed away. Instead something else takes over her. Something that had been bubbling underneath her fragile self even before Lena came into the room. Her eyes turn dark, feral even and the longing in her eyes increases tenfold.

Before Lena realizes what’s happening Widowmaker dashes towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her back hard. They both fall down. Lena manages to fall to her side instead of completely backwards and she lands hard on her back. She grunts in pain. Widowmaker doesn’t give her a moment of respite, putting either leg on the sides of Lena’s thighs and grabs both of her arms, forcing them down to the ground above her head. Lena winces in pain at the sharp twist in her arm, but she hardly notices it. So mesmerized she is by the other’s eyes.

“ _You”_ Is all Widowmaker says, drawls, face so close to Lena she can feel the breath on her face. It sounds angry and frustrated and full of wanting. It’s desperate.

One push, Lena thinks. That’s all she needs. The final step of the plan is just one push.

She smiles weakly, deliberately so.

“Take me, _Amélie.”_

And finally, _finally_ the sniper, Widowmaker, her enemy, Amélie Lacroix and everything else she is crushes her lips against Lena’s.

It’s rough and hard and there’s teeth but oh Lena wouldn’t have it any other way. Widowmaker seems new at this, or perhaps she just doesn’t remember. Lips move against her roughly but explorative, seemingly discovering as Amélie finds her way around Lena’s mouth. No matter her inexperience, it’s clear that she’s in control. Lena is allowed to kiss back, attempting to move in tandem with the other’s movement, but when she teasingly swipes her tongue against the other’s lips Amélie bites down hard on her lip.

Lena yelps in pain and begins to taste blood. This seemingly encourages Widowmaker even more, as she turns the kiss deeper. Lena attempts to fight back, though perhaps only because she likes the sensation of being dominated so much. It works and she gets her way, with more grace than Lena expected Widowmaker’s tongue enters her mouth, taking it’s time exploring. She licks over the cut she made when she bit down and Lena can’t help but moan.

She tries to move her arms but in return Widowmaker holds her wrists even tighter. The struggling feels nice so Lena doesn’t stop, kissing back all the while. Widowmaker breaks the kiss suddenly and looks into her eyes, all she finds there is mirth and lust and enjoyment. “Good,” she says breathlessly, and kisses Lena again.

She was checking if everything was okay, that’s sweet, Lena thinks.

She arches her back after Widowmaker does something exceptionally pleasant with her tongue and she discovers that her body has grown fairly hot and particularly responsive to body contact with Amélie.

Only half aware of what she’s doing she grinds her pelvis against the woman on top of her and moans at the contact.

Amélie apparently catches on what she’s doing and decides to make it better. She places one of her knees in between Lena’s legs, giving her more opportunity to feel friction. Lena gladly takes her upon that offer and grinds herself against the others knee, which is moving in tandem with her thrusts. Lena moans hard into the other’s mouth, the sounds making Amélie more and more intoxicated.

Lena stops struggling against the others hands and simply relaxes her body, enjoying the sensations overcoming her.

Amélie forgoes kissing her mouth for kissing other places, beginning with her ear and moving slowly to her neck. The newfound freedom of her mouth enables Lena to moan unrestrained, something she’s eagerly taking advantage of.

She all but screams in pain and pleasure when Widowmaker bites down on the side of her neck hard.

Amélie puts both of Lena’s wrists under one of hers, pinning her down with a single hand. With the other she begins to roam around Lena’s body, stroking that sensitive spot behind her ear, going over her lips, paying particular attention to  the cut in her lip, before going lower, ghosting over her throat shortly until she reaches Lena’s breasts. She caresses her left breast gently, at first. Then she cups it through the fabric and kneads it with her fingers. Lena gasps. It’s so delicate, she thinks, the way her fingers curl and twist. This woman who could kill you with a single finger is taking the time to explore her body in such an intimate way.

It’s so wonderful and good and all Lena wants is more.

“Undress me,” she whimpers. She’d do it herself in a heartbeat but she’s rather incapacitated at the moment.

Widowmaker stops her ministrations abruptly. Lena quickly meets her eyes. There’s a sudden uncertainty there, and slowly Lena watches it turn into anguish.

Lena quickly worms her hands free, the others grasps having loosened significantly, and puts them on Amélie’s face.

“Hey, hey,” she hushes. “It’s okay. I want this. I’m okay. I really am.”

Lena’s breath stops in her throat when she sees tears begin to form in the other woman’s eyes.

“No, you’re not. You’re not,” she cries as more tears well up in her eyes. “This is wrong, I’m so sorry, Lena.”

In one movement she’s up and with that all body contact is too. Lena feels cold and confused.

She gets up as well and tries to console the woman, but Amélie backs away.

“Don’t touch me,” she almost hisses, then seems surprised at her own voice.

“I don’t mean it like that,” she follows up in a much softer tone. “I’m sorry. I… We can’t do this.”

Lena feels awkward and vulnerable and still confused. “But why?” she says weakly. She wants to say more, but the words won’t come.

 “Because you don’t really want it,” Widowmaker says harshly. There is a finality in her tone that scares Lena.

Abruptly Widowmaker turns around and heads for the door. Lena has just enough time to reach out her hand and yell a weak ‘wait!’ before the door slams shut.

Lena panics. Stands there for several seconds too long before she realizes she wants to go after Amélie.  She rushes through the door but when she opens it she can hear the last of footsteps echo in the distance. She doesn’t even know what direction the other woman went in.  She could try to seek her out, but she’ll risk getting lost, or worse, she might run into someone else.

Defeated she steps back into the room and closes the door behind her.

She has a faint hope that Widowmaker will return during the night, so she sits on her bed, similar to how Widowmaker sat earlier, except with blankets around her, and simply waits.

Amélie doesn’t return that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter in one sitting! Woke up at like 6 am and spend 4 hours writing or so.  
> Hope you all like the chapter. Things are heating up!
> 
> Also I realize getting shot from point blank doesn't work like that, probably, but let's just pretend Amelie has a 'special' future gun that can do that.


	8. Descend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting real angsty here, mates.

_Hate me, break me,_

_let me feel as hurt as you._

_Push me, crush me_

_but promise me you'll never let us go._

 

Guilt.

 

That’s what Amélie Lacroix feels when she thinks of Lena.

Because surely the cold and calculated Widowmaker, said to feel no emotion except for when she kills, wouldn’t be feeling _guilt_ out of all things.

She numbly makes her way through endless hallways, knowing precisely where to go to avoid meeting even a single soul. The early hour definitely helps too. She walks through seemingly endless corridors, going deeper and deeper underground. Further away from everything that hurts.

Guilt is what Amélie feels when she thinks of Lena.

How she was forced into the same situation as her.

When she thinks of that smile gone from her face, now coated with a deranged want the younger woman never asked for.

Why this had to happen to Lena of all this people, who was before this so purely a good human being.

Unlike her.

She’s rotten, faulty, flawed.

Guilt.

Is all she feels when she thinks of Lena.

When she thinks of how she wants to touch her. 

Hold her.

Kiss her.

How she wants the girl kneeling before her, in utter surrender of what is to come.

Guilt is what she feels when she knows so well that Lena would be so eager to do it for her, to do everything Amélie wants. 

When she thinks of all the things she so desperately wants to do to the girl, to hurt her, to dominate her, to pleasure her, to kill her, to simply hold her, to make her her own in every way she can imagine.

When she thinks of all that, guilt overcomes her.

It’s wrong, deranged, perverted.

Not normal.

Lena should hate her, by all means. They were enemies, it was the natural state of things. They should go back that way, for Lena to go back hating her and for her to go back to being hated and quietly wanting, loving, Lena more with every passing encounter.

She digs the nails of her fingers into the skin of her other upper arm as she walks, drawing blood. She keeps doing it until she feels a dull pain. She needs to feel something, _anything_ at all.

She keeps walking.

Guilt, so much _guilt._

There’s tears falling from her eyes, she realizes numbly. Good, let her suffer. She deserves it.

Why is she even crying? Because of what she did? It should be Lena, crying because she was almost defiled by… by a monster.

Almost.

She breathes in relief.

She managed to stop in time, this time.

She forcibly reminds herself that she shot such an eager, willing Lena. She looked so breathtaking, so vulnerable, yet so accepting of what Amélie wanted to do to her. It was like she had completely surrendered herself to Amélie’s will.

It was beautiful, and it had felt so incredibly good. It was everything she wanted, needed, what she so endlessly craved.

But not what Lena wanted. Not really.

Guilt. It washes over her again after her brief respite.

Good, she should feel as much terror as possible. There should be no rest for her.

Lena only thinks she wants all of these things. It’s what her programming tells her, please Widowmaker in any way she wants to. There is no other way. No way would someone willingly let herself be shot, or feel affection for someone like her, for that matter. Her programming must be tugging at her mind, making her believe falls lies. And _God_ Amélie took advantage of that. Multiple times.

Frustration overcomes her.

With all the strength she can muster she punches the wall, almost breaking her hand. She drags her knuckles along the wall roughly, the flesh of her skin becoming raw and beginning to bleed.

She’s desperate. These feelings she doesn’t understand are overwhelming her, crippling her thoughts. She needs a way out. Pain helps. She punches the wall again. She bites her lip not to yell out in pain.

She’s tempted to run, crawl back to Moira or anyone who worked on her procedure. It’s so tempting to beg for them to reset her, numb the pain, the desperation, and all of the other feelings. Turn her back into that feral creature that only wants to kill, without all these thoughts and feelings clouding her mind.

But she doesn’t deserve such relief.

She deserves to suffer, instead.

So she carries on.

She makes her way through seemingly abandoned corridors, with only the bare minimum of lightning illuminating her path. There is not a single ornament or decoration in sight.

Those who go here don’t need such trivialities.

Guilt is what Amélie still feels when she reaches the very bottom of the corridors and makes her way through the final hall. There’s a chamber at end, heavy doors password protected. Amélie easily unlocks it, remembering the password by heart.

She enters the abandoned room. Though, it had seen use rather recently, she forces herself to remember.

Carefully she slides into the mechanical chair in the middle of the room, illuminated by a single light above it. There’s all sorts of medical equipment surrounding her, machines and electric tools used for precise operations. They’re all disabled now, shut down for security. No longer can she hear the mechanical zoom of the machines. There’s only a dull thrumming of the lights.

This is where she was made so long ago. Where her soul was ripped from her body and put back all wrong.

This is where Lena was made, too. She remembers watching, remembers that faint hope that there finally would be _someone_ who’d understand her. She remembers looking fondly at the girl sleeping in the chair she is sitting in now. Her growing affections giving her hope she didn’t know what to do with, didn’t understand.

She felt _happy_ at the sight of Lena becoming this… this slave for her. Amélie watched with a reserved happiness as the girl was stripped of her free will. She watched her become a broken monster like herself instead, her brain laced with fake and artificial desires.

Desires for her.

She’s disgusted with herself.

She wishes she could die, but that would be the easy way out. And someone like her doesn’t deserve an easy way out.

There should be no respite for the likes of her.

Amélie puts her face in her hands and cries. Tears she doesn’t deserve to shed fall down her cheeks.

She’s alone, so completely and utterly alone, deep down in the bellows of Talon when she comes to herself. Her true self.

Guilt is what Widowmaker feels, not Amélie.

Guilt, so much guilt.

 

* * *

 

 

Guilt is what Lena feels.

When she thinks of the others eyes, filled with anguish and tears.

When she watched her storm out of the room.

When she didn’t follow.

Those tears, all because of her.

Oh God, what has she done? She pushed, that was the plan. But she pushed too far. She broke the tentative peace they had. Shattered it into a million pieces. She coerced the other into this, basically forcing her, tempting her, preying on her weak spot.

She should have never come up with the Plan. It was so _incredibly_ stupid and rude and wrong and a dozen other bad things. What was she thinking?

She feels so, _so_ guilty.

What has she done?

What has she destroyed?

Panic rises in her belly.

She wishes she could go to Amélie, find her and console her. Tell her what a horrible creature Lena is and that she made a huge mistake. That she has the right to be angry, and there’s no reason to forgive her, ever.

She has no idea where the other woman has gone to, unfortunately. On top of that she also has no idea how to reach anyone else. The training area and cafeteria, the only two places she can reach by herself, are abandoned at this hour. Not that she wants to run into just anyone. Sombra would be nice, or even Moira or Reaper. But they are fast asleep somewhere in the upper levels of this monstrously huge facility. Until when? She doesn’t know. They came home late from their mission last night. For all she knows they might not show up until noon. 

She’s stuck. Until morning at least.

Hours have passed since Amélie has left. She could be anywhere by now.

It’s freaking Lena out. What if she gets into trouble, does something to herself? Lena can’t bear to think of it, it would be her fault and she’d never forgive herself.

She has forsaken sitting on her bed for pacing nervously around the room instead.She doesn’t know how much time passes by, not looking at the clock while she paces, but it’s exactly 9:15 when she hears footsteps approach in the distance.

_Amélie._

For a moment her heart gets stuck in her throat, thrumming so hard she thinks it might burst.

Then her instincts tell her it isn’t her, as the footsteps are different.

She has just enough time to mask her disappointment and control her breathing when the door opens, revealing a tired looking Moira.

She takes a long look around the room, then after reaching the conclusion that Widowmaker isn’t present, she focuses her attention on Lena.

“While I was asleep I got a notification. About four and a half hours ago someone entered the artificial transformation chamber.”

Lena looks at her questioningly.

“The uhm, the chamber where both you and her were enhanced.” Moira says and coughs into her hand, seemingly uncomfortable.

It takes a moment for Lena to comprehend.

Oh.

She remembers very little of that, and what she does remember she’d rather forget.

Moira apparently takes her silence as permission to continue.

“They haven’t left since.”

“You mean she’s…?” Lena says a little too quickly, then promptly shuts her mouth.

“Very little people know it exists, or where it is, let alone know the password. Seeing as she doesn’t seem to be here, I’d say it’s a good chance it’s her.”

Moira takes a moment to think.

“I don’t know what transpired between the two of you, but I suspect it didn’t end well.”

Lena looks at the ground awkwardly, unsure of how to respond, how to explain.

“Look,” Moira says and sighs. “It hardly matters what happened. The fact remains that something happened and it needs to be solved. She’s been experiencing an increase in emotions ever since you arrived. I have… thought of correcting it, it’s a far cry from the deadly emotionless precision we needed from her.”

Lena winches at the thought. Would have been her fault too, a voice in her head tells her.

“I didn’t, however.” Moira continues. “I was curious what she would do, both of you.” She hums in approval. “You two did not disappoint.  You’ve proven that even with emotions and with wavering programming, because yes I know you two aren’t as… loyal to your programming as you should have been, you can still be a force to be reckoned with.”

Moira attempts to smile. It’s as frightening as it is amusing.

“I wanted to give the two of you a choice, something that was stolen from the both of you.”

Lena feels at a loss of words. The scientist says it very easily, but it’s a grand gesture. It’s the most ethical thing she has ever heard Moira say.

“Thank you,” she mutters awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head.

“Thank me later, when this is all sorted out. Now come.” Moira says and gestures to the door. “I’ll show you the way.”

They begin to make their way through the corridors. It doesn’t take long before Lena is completely lost. Demurely she follows Moira. For several minutes they walk without speaking, taking turns left and right and going down seemingly endless stairs.

Soon they stop running into any other members of Talon.

On and on they go, deeper into the belly of the building, with nothing but the sounds of their footsteps to accompany them.

Eventually Moira stops at the top of a  long staircase, which continues into a long hallway down below.

“Just keep walking,” Moira says and hands her a note with a series of numbers scribbled on it. “The password,” she explains.

With that she says her goodbyes and leaves, disappearing behind a corner.

Lena hears steps fade in the distance until there’s nothing but the soft buzzing of the lights above her head.

She’s on her own.

She doesn’t know how to get back either. 

The only way to move is forward. Lena takes a deep breath and continues down the stairs.

She suspects Widowmaker hears her coming. The thought doesn’t help.

In a vain attempt to keep calm she focuses on her breathing and after a moment she carefully approaches the door.

After some doubtful contemplation she knocks on the metallic door.

No response.

Lena expected as much.

It takes several moments for her to gather enough courage, and when she does it’s only because she enters the number quickly and without thinking too much that she manages to pull through.

When the door opens fully she’s gasps at the sight. 

For a long, frightening moment Lena thinks Amélie might be dead, but then she catches sight of the jagged rise and fall of her back. She sighs in relief.

Amélie is sitting in a large mechanical looking chair in the middle of the room, with a single light above her illuminating her. She’s slumped forward, head hanging low. Her hair has gotten loose from its ponytail and strands are hanging in front of her face. There’s blood on her, on her face, her arms, her hands, possibly on other places Lena can’t see.

The rest of the room doesn’t look much better.

There are remains of medical equipment, but most of it has been shattered and completely destroyed. There’s dents in the wall where various tools must have made an impact, the cabinets have been thrown over and whatever was attached to the walls has been torn loose. Broken shards of glass and other materials are scattered all over the ground.

Amélie must have done this.

Lena gently takes a few steps inside, carefully avoiding the mess on the ground. 

“ _Leave!”_ Amélie suddenly cries out, raising her head to look at Lena, who notices that her eyes are red from crying. There’s desperation in her voice as well as in her eyes. There’s something else in her expression too. Fear and a quiet lingering madness.

Lena would describe it as beautiful if the situation had been more appropriate.

She halts her pacing and simply stands, unsure of how to begin.

“I want to apologize,” she manages to choke out.

That seems to get a reaction out of Widowmaker. Startled she looks to the side, then back to Lena.

Then, she begins to cry.

Lena isn’t quick enough to respond, her mind tells her to rush over to her but she’s nailed to the ground.

“You,” Amélie manages to say in between heavy sobs, tears streaming down her face. “You have nothing to apologize for, Lena. Please believe me. _Please,”_ she all but pleads, clearly in desperation.

Lena takes a step forward, determined to stave off whatever haunts Amélie, but pauses abruptly when Amélie cries out again.

“It’s not your fault. Please believe me,” she sobs. “I’ve done everything wrong, I wronged _you._ I’m a _monster.”_

Lena is confused, doesn’t understand the other’s grief. It should be her who is apologizing, not Amélie.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” she begins carefully, in an attempt not to agitate the woman further. “I’m the one who wronged you, I… I took advantage of you. I’m terrible.”

Widowmaker looks at her, possibly even more mortified than before and begins to sob harder. 

“No… No, No! You’ve got it all wrong. It’s _me._ I have been taking advantage of you, cherie,” she cries out. “You can’t help it, you only think you wanted to.” She puts her face in her hands and cries uncontrollably.

Lena thinks about her words, unsure of what they mean. What can’t she help?

Unless?

_Wait._

“You… you don’t mean the conditioning, do you?”

Lena manages to catch sight of a faint nod in between the sobbing.

Oh.

Suddenly it all clicks, the others reluctance, her sudden mood swings, her anguished expressions.

She thinks Lena is only doing this because she’s conditioned to. 

Well, she thinks to herself, seems they have a _lot_ to talk about.

With newfound determination she takes a step forward. She's going to fix this.


	9. Interlude

_The ways that I’ll have you_

_Are global emergency_

_The shape of your mouth_

_Is crashing the currency_

 

 

With her newfound determination she takes the steps needed to reach Amélie. Gently, she puts her hand on the other’s trembling shoulder.

Amélie doesn’t look up. Instead she begins to beg. Pleading for Lena to leave, to abandon her. To leave and never come back, to never see Widowmaker again. She’s sobbing into her hands uncontrollably and barely manages to get the words out. Her voice is so strained and small, so vulnerable. 

Lena feels her heart break.

She had never seen Widowmaker, always in control, with an air of domination around her, so vulnerable. Empathy overcomes Lena and with all her strength and determination  she speaks up 

“You’re wrong,” she says, her tone soft but determined.Then she begins to gently caress the others shoulder. The trembling and sobbing becomes slightly less intense, much to lena’s relief.

“I wanted this,” she continues. “ _all_ of me wanted this.”

Amélie looks up at her with wide, teary eyes.

“You don’t. You only think you do. I know what it’s like,” she all but whispers. She begins to cry again. 

The words could make Lena doubt herself, her autonomy. But they don’t, she is unwavering in her understanding that what she wants isn’t merely the programming.

“I’ve already proven to you that I can overcome my programming, haven’t I?” She says, her voice much more strong now. 

Amélie gives her a questioning look. The last tears falling from her eyes as she looks up.

“You taught me yourself, you helped me overcome it when you taught me how to channel it. When I fought you in the training hall, remember?”

For a split second Amélie’s eyes widen in realization. But it only lasts a moment. It disappears as quickly as it came, doubt taking over her expression.

“That’s different,” she says numbly, averting her gaze.

After a moment she meets Lena’s eyes again.

“They put this false affection for me in your head. You don’t really care for me, or want all this,” she struggles to say. “You used to hate me, don’t you remember? You should hate me Lena, I’ve killed so many, I’ve killed Mondatta right in front of your eyes.”

Lena remembers. Oh she remembers the hate she felt when she first met the sniper, who was gunning down Overwatch members like flies, she remembers the uncertainty she felt when she first looked into the others eyes for the first time and felt a rush of _something_ go through her, she remembers the confusion and horror when Widowmaker took down Mondatta, the frustration she felt when she lost to her on numerous occasions. She remembers all of that.

But then she remembers the fun she felt when they were engaged in battle, almost like a dance surrounded by gunfire. She remembers the rush of affection she’d feel when they’d get particularly close in battle and Widowmaker would grace her with a smile. So profound, so exquisite. She remembers the fondness she’d start to feel when another battle would begin once more. And lastly, she remembers feeling so alive whenever she’d meet Amélie on the battlefield.

Before talon captured her she definitely felt a growing fondness, affection, perhaps even love for her then enemy. Though It obviously wouldn’t have worked out, with them being enemies. She genuinely thought Widowmaker hater her, the plucky Britt. But but now she isn’t so sure. When she looks into the others eyes there is definitely something there, affection, fondness, warmth perhaps even love? It’s hard to believe someone like Widowmaker would choose her to love. But she has seen the proof in the others eyes and manner. 

She gathers her will and speaks up. 

“I liked you, before I mean,” she blurts out. “I used to hate you, in the very beginning, but that didn’t last long. I liked you, a lot. And I loved fighting you, I think I even liked losing to you,  I always have,” she says and forces herself to refrain from staring at the ground.

Several emotions cross Amélie’s face, there’s disbelief and doubt but also confusion and perhaps even a quiet hope.

“I think they just amplified it,” Lena continues. “My feelings, I mean. They built on what was already there. When I think of you there’s nothing inside me that wants to resist, nothing at all,” she finishes, now too embarrassed to remain eye contact. She awkwardly looks to the side, hoping for a response.

In the corner of her eyes she watches Amélie shift, putting her hands on her lap and turning to face Lena.

“That is… similar to me,” she says quietly, her voice sounding vulnerable.

“What do you mean?” Lena asks, turning to face her again.

“They… amplified what was already inside me, I think.”

Lena considers her words. “You mean you… uhm, liked killing before they took you?” She asks awkwardly.

“Not to kill, no. At least I wouldn’t know, I had never killed before I became who I am now. No, it was to hurt. I liked to hurt.”

Lena suddenly feels her throat getting dry and the beginning of those pleasant shivers going down her spine. The thought of  Amélie hurting her makes her tremble with anticipation, She realizes she actually wants Amélie to hurt her, in different ways possible. She wants to be the only one to be able to give that to her. It’s comes as a shock but she thinks that deep down she might have always known, their dances on the battlefield amount to that.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Amélie continues after Lena doesn’t respond. “I did not indulge. I was a good child, too. I did not torture cats or bully classmates. I was raised well.” She says it casually but there is a tremble in her voice and her breathing is labored.

Lena doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath as Amélie continues to speak.

“When I got older and took lovers I… experimented, but always with their consent. Despite my abnormality I aimed to be a good person.”

Her voice is still vulnerable and open, but Lena notices she gains more confidence as she goes on.

“Gerard was… nice about it. It wasn’t for him, but he tried. Eventually I stopped, I tempered it. It was a pleasant marriage, don’t misunderstand, but I couldn’t do what I most craved. That made me feel sorrowful.”

 “I always thought me being like… that was why Talon chose me. Although I never knew how they found out. Perhaps it was my online searches, I was rather careless,” she says and there’s the tiniest hint of a smile on her face.

Lena smiles back in an attempt to be reassuring. It explains… things, she supposes. She’s unsure of how to feel about this, The knowledge that the one you love wants to hurt you and is also loving you, and then a whole other things where Lena herself apparently wants to be hurt by the woman she loves. it’s a bit overwhelming to say the least. But, pleasantly overwhelming. Her body is thrumming in anticipation of what is to come, 

Also, she can work with this.

“Then, do you believe it’s the same for me?” Lena asks.              

“I don’t know,” Amélie admits softly. “I truly don’t.” She puts her face in her hands again. “I shot you,” she says, the sound muffled against her hands. “And you were _so_ willing.”

Lena feels embarrassment at those words being spoken aloud, a blush creeping to her cheeks. But she can’t back out now, she has to continue. If she doesn’t Widowmaker will just see it as confirmation of her stubborn beliefs. Lena has to prove she still has a shred of free will left. 

“Yeah,” she begins awkwardly, “That was mad wasn’t it.”

She gently grasps the other’s hands with her own and lowers them in order to look into Amélie’s teary eyes. The look in her eyes still one of quiet desperation and madness.

“I wanted it though,” she murmurs softly. “I really did.”

“I don’t believe you,” Amélie insists, “No one would willingly let that happen,” she says determined, shaking her head. 

“Look, I won’t deny that the reconditioning probably played a part in it. But I, the real me, wanted that. The conditioning merely amplified it. I want to do, to be, what you need, what you crave, no matter what that is. I just… realized what it was that you wanted and I channeled the programming, as you taught me.”

“But, why?” Widowmaker responds in the tiniest voice Lena’s ever heard her speak. 

“Because I...,” Lena starts, then realizes there’s just no more words for her to say. Nothing that will convince the other, it’s a matter of believing. “Because I just _want_ you,” she finishes exasperatedly and leans in. 

Amélie doesn’t return the kiss, instead remaining frozen against Lena’s mouth, who makes a frustrated noise. 

She breaks the kiss and looks into Widowmakers eyes. 

 _“Look at me_ , _”_ she demands roughly. 

The other does so, looking at her with big startled eyes.

Lena is beyond frustration, reaching levels of desperation herself. “Do you see any unwillingness in my eyes? I’m _perfectly_ capable of deciding for myself, and I’ve decided that I want you. I want you to do all those things to me that you crave. There’s nothing inside me that doesn’t want that. I know it’s weird and abnormal but it just _is._ ” She’s rambling but she doesn’t care. “Shoot me, hurt me, break me into a thousand little pieces, I don’t care. I want it all. Just let me be the one to give you that. _Please._ ” 

She’s tempted to shake Amélie to get some sense into her but manages to refrain from doing so, instead she grasps her hands more tightly and rests her forehead against them.

They stay like this for a moment, unmoving with nothing but the sounds of their breathing and the hum of the lights above them.

“I need it,” she finishes softly, her voice a strangled mess of emotions.

Lena feels the hands in her grip tighten ever so slightly around her own.

“I need it, _too”_ Lena says, a deep want and longing in her voice. "I need all of those things you want to do to me, I crave it... _so_ much.

They stay like this for a long time, hands interlocked, both lost in their own thoughts.

Lena is thinking of how she can convince the other, if there are more things she could say. She’s desperately looking inside herself if she can find something to say. Anything at all that would convince Amélie

“Alright.” Amélie speaks up suddenly, her voice quiet but there’s also resignation in there.

Lena almost missed it, lost in thought, thinking about what to say to convince her. 

There is a definitive tone in the other woman’s quiet, reserved voice. Something steady that wasn’t there before. 

She looks up to meet the other’s eyes. There’s that fire again, slumbering in the back of her soul. It’s small and barely noticeable but definitely there. Something seems to settle in Amélie’s expression. 

“Alright,” she repeats, her voice stronger this time. “I believe you. I cannot detect anything inside you that gives me the feeling that you don’t really want to be here.” 

Lena can’t believe what she’s hearing. Did she really manage to make Amélie believe her? Happiness and something else, equally positive rises in her body.

“But promise me,” Amélie continues, “that if there’s even the slightest hint of doubt in your mind, or reluctance or hesitation, you will tell me so immediately.”

Lena manages a weak nod, her voice caught in her throat.

In what feels like a blur her hands are jerked forward hard, coming to rest at both sides of Widowmaker, who all but drags her so that Lena is leaning over her. 

Their faces are close, too close and Lena feels heat rising in her cheeks. It’s different from before. Amélie’s eyes are shining more brightly and while there’s still a hint of reluctance in her expression there is also the addition of mirth.

“Ready?” she says. “Because I will be hurting you” Amelie says, with the tiniest smile on her face, a quiet but determined smile of what is to come.

Lena nods again, more diligently this time. She’s ready, she wants to take all that widowmaker wants to give her. 

In one quick motion she’s pulled in and their lips meet. Amélie kisses her so fiercely it makes her gasp against the other’s mouth. Amélie gives her no respite, immediately kissing her rough and fierce. It doesn’t take long for Amélie’s tongue to enter Lena’s mouth. It’s not much of a fight really, Widowmaker wants to dominate her and Lena just wants to be dominated by her. It feels wonderful and divine.She let herself be utterly and completely dominated by just Amélie’s tongue swirling around in her mouth.

She idly wonders what else is to come, she hopes to survive it, she thinks, laughing inwardly.

There isn’t a shred of doubt in her mind anymore, she wants this as much as Amélie does. 

It’s sick.

And deranged and mad.

Not normal.

But that’s in the eyes of others, of society.

Between the two of them everything is as it should be, perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy did I just cock block you guys. 
> 
> Teehee
> 
> Also If anyone want's do dm me to chat with me that would be grand, I have no other friends in my life who care about fanfiction, let alone shipping. So I'm kinda lonely in that regard.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the next chapter, bit nervous about it as I've never written a sex scene in my life. Oh gosh. (I'm kinda prude)


	10. Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not for underage!
> 
> (Just kidding I was a 14 year old little shit when I started reading smut, enjoy you bastards)

  


_As I’m rewriting Genesis_   
_On the skin of your throat_   
_Divine and degenerate_   
_That’s how I want you_   
  
_To bring me oblivion_   
_Make me unrecognized_   
_Render me savage_   
_Render me weaponized_   
_I want you with lunacy_

  


Lena  climbs on top of the other woman in one smooth motion, her hips straddling Amélie. Her hands are resting on both sides of Amélie’s abdomen, caressing them gently. Hazily she looks down at her. “What do you want, love?” She asks, her voice of voice soft and warm, open. 

“Isn’t that obvious?” comes the response. Amélie puts her hands on Lena’s thighs and caresses her gently in emphasis. 

“No, I mean, yes, but I mean uhh, the hurt thing,” Lena says in slight embarrassment and makes a vague gesture with her hand. “Don’t you want to?”

“I do...” Her voice lingers. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” Lena all but whines, surprised at her own eagerness. She leans down in an attempt to capture the other woman’s lips once again, hungry for more. Before she does, however, she catches sight of the other’s eyes. They’re stern and harsh, calculating every move she does. Behind all that is still familiar that fire getting brighter and brighter however.

With that harsh look, Lena suddenly doesn’t dare to kiss her anymore, at least not without permission. Awkwardly her face lingers above that of Amélie. 

“Sit up” she says in a demanding tone. 

Lena obeys and doesn’t think she could have done it any quicker if she tried. 

“Good” Amélie says curtly. She moves to a more sitting position herself and reaches out her arms.

“You asked me what I wanted to do,” she says in that same stern tone of voice. Lena feels that if she keeps using that voice she’ll have to obey everything Widowmaker says.

Her arms move up to Lena agonizingly slow. It’s unbearable to remain sitting, instead of simply indulge. But she’s obedient, and waits.

“The thing that I want to do most right now is...,” Amélie continues and carefully moves her hands towards the other’s throat. Caressing it slightly and stroking her fingers along the Lines of Lena’s neck. When she decides she wants more she gently wraps both hands around Lena’s throat and squeezes ever so lightly. It’s merely a faint pressure on It, but her intentions are clear.

“… this,” Amélie finishes and looks straight into Lena’s eyes with those blazing golden orbs of her. 

Lena gasps hard, the pressure on her throat making it vaguely pleasurable. She should have known, she thinks to herself and smiles inwardly. She remembers several instances in the time they’ve spent here together Amélie had already gone for her throat, touching it, holding it, putting pressure on it, simply staring at it. Even before, when Lena was still free and they were fighting, Widowmaker would often go for her neck. 

“Can I?” Amélie asks, in a much softer tone than before. 

Lena nods. “You can, I meant it when I said everything. I want you to do what feels good for you.” She puts her hand to her mouth and thinks.

“Three taps,” she says, looking pleased with herself.

Widowmaker looks at her questioningly.

“If I tap you or anything three times you’ll have to stop. I don’t expect I’ll be able to talk much,” she says and laughs softly.

Amélie laughs with her, and then there is that mirth in her eyes, along with something else. There is that fire Lena always sees after she has made a kill. Talon took the pleasure she could from engaging in this sort of activities and weaponized it. It’s sick, albeit very effective. 

They stay like this for a moment. Amélie playing around with her neck and Lena enjoying the feel of it, She gasps when Amélie moves a hand to that good spot behind her ear and gently caresses her there, the other hand still playing with her throat. Lena looks up to meet golden orbs staring intently at her throat. Apparently feeling that she’s being watched she looks up to meet Lena’s eyes. 

“Your eyes look beautiful, Amélie. I could stare into them forever.”

Amélie smiles and it just adds to the beauty of her eyes. “Thank you,” she says, a trace of genuine happiness in her voice. 

“Are you ready?” She says, switching back to the stern, commanding tone. 

Lena nods, eagerly. 

“Take a deep breath, cherie” Widowmaker says simply,almost demanding it. Lena doesn’t know if she can obey any quicker. She takes a deep breath, and when she does the pressure on her throat suddenly increases exponentially. She immediately tries to gasp for air but it’s too late. Her windpipe is closed off and she’ll have to do it with the oxygen that’s still in her lungs.

She can’t talk, or scream for that matter. She can struggle a bit, their positioning helps somewhat, with her being on top of Amélie, but she doesn’t want this to turn into a fight either. So she remains meek, only struggling a little.

What she can do, however is see, and so she opens eyes she didn’t realize that were closed and simply looks.

The sight is breathtaking. Amélie is so focused on her, on her neck, her throat, occasionally glancing to her face, checking if she’s alright. Her eyes are burning with fire, with desire and lust and everything else. And it’s all because of what Lena let’s Amélie do to her. It gives her pleasant shivers.

Oxygen is beginning to run out in her lungs, and therefore the supply to her brain. As a result her body begins to lightly twitch everywhere, it’s attempting to get Lena to breathe. Instinctively she puts her hands around the wrists of the hands surrounding her throat. She attempts to pull them away but it’s no use, their grip is unbudging. The increasingly low oxygen in her blood isn’t helping either, making her feel weak and light in her head, which is oddly pleasant, she vaguely realizes. 

Instead of struggling she instead puts her hands over that of Widowmaker’s and increases pressure, therefore increasing more pressure on her own throat. She’s rewarded with a pleasant dizziness and feels the beginning of a high due to low levels of oxygen. 

_More_

Is what she’s trying to say. 

Amélie understands. 

The pressure on her neck increases considerably more, and now it outright hurts. Lena’s body begins to tremble and twitch uncontrollably. It’s a strange sensation, to feel so weak and have so little control over your own body, but _God_ does it feel good. It’s so nice to not be in control over yourself for a while and just let it all happen. For a brief moment Lena let’s her body go limp, aside from her hands that are still on Widowmaker, and simply enjoys her shuddering and twitching body.  

Eventually though, the need for air is all that her brain urges her on. It’s impossible to ignore. And Lena is coherent enough to realize that soon she will indeed need air. She considers tapping, but wonders if Amélie will let go first. The final moments are exquisite and agonizing, her body is outright jerking now, and her mind forces her to focus on getting air someway, any way possible. 

Just as she thinks it’s time to tap Amélie let’s go.

Immediately Lena gasps for breath, taking several gulps breaths of air before her breathing returns to normal. Another pleasant high overcomes her, one that comes with not breathing for some time and then feeling the oxygen run in. She’s feeling giddy and slightly dizzy. It’s pleasant.

When she has regained her senses she opens her eyes and giggles. “That was positively mad, but so, so good. I feel so good right now,” she tells the other shakily. When they lock eyes Lena thinks that the look in Amélie’s eyes probably mirrors her own. She feels so full of life and judging by the intense but pleasant look she’s receiving, it’s the same for the other woman. 

“Are you alright, cherie?” she asks after a moment, her voice still strict but with underlying gentleness and care.

“Haven’t felt this good in ages,” Lena says and giggles quietly. “I was about to tap when you let go. I was wondering if you would let go yourself and if you could anticipate when that moment was. Apparently you can.”

Amélie smiles. “I take good care of my… subjects. I pay close attention to them, their eyes, their bodies. I can usually tell when to let go.”

At that Lena suddenly feels the familiar sting of jealousy. She has done this to other people. She brushes it off quickly. That was years ago, before her transformation and joining Talon, before her marriage with Gerard probably. That was then, eons ago when they were both living different lives. This is now.

She smiles. “How did it feel for you, love? Did you enjoy it?”

Amélie’s expression changes into an endearing one. “Oh Lena, it was wonderful. I felt so alive and you looked so beautiful struggling for air. It was _magnifique.”_ her voice sounds so alive and full of emotion when she says it. 

Lena blushes at that. “Good,” she says and there is a stammer in her voice. “For me too, was bloody fantastic. Never really knew I was into this kind of thing. Although, maybe my excitement in battles and fights should have been a hint.” She laughs softly at the last part.

“It’s all about balance, I believe.” Amélie starts, suddenly slightly more serious. “One pulls one moves along willingly. That’s what this is all about. In essence we are simulating, we create another world between just the two of us where different rules apply. Within those rules we have roles and within those roles we can move freely. For example I could kill you rather easily in that position, you and I know both know that. But we have rules in our simulation, those rules are based on trust. I trust you to let me know when it’s too much and you trust me enough that I won’t actually kill you. All this combined creates a sort of equilibrium in which we move around.”

The way the woman says it is so incredibly  _Amélie,_ Lena thinks. Even though she had never met the woman before she became Widowmaker she instinctively knows that this is what she was like before. It's a strange feeling. But she's happy Amélie let's her show this side of her, that was buried deep down for so long.

Lena ponders her words, she’s rather knowledgeable on the subject, she realizes. Must be all those _internet searches ._  She smiles inwardly. What she said seems plausible. There’s a lot of trust involved in this. After finding no flaws in Amélie’s words, she smiles at the other woman. “I trust you” she says, "completely.”

Amélie looks positively radiating after that comment.

“So,” Lena continues, “can we do it again? I want more,” she asks shyly. 

Amélie laughs and it’s that damn melodious laugh again. “Yes, however, how about we switch our positions. I feel you’d fit much better on the _bottom.”_ A coy smile adorns her face.

Lena figures out the implication and blushes fiercely, pouting all the way. 

“Oh come here” Amélie says and reaches up to hold her tight. “It’s okay to enjoy something like this if you’re with company who does so too. It’s okay to be who you truly are right now. Be yourself.”

“Is that an order, madame?” Lena says a little too quickly, eager for the response.

Amélie’s eyes flash brightly and she laughs. “Yes, I believe it is. Now, do I need to repeat myself?”

Lena quickly gets off of her and stands to the side, giving Amélie space to get out from the chair herself. Lena gets in the chair and leans it back, so she’s sort of in a lying down position. Almost immediately Widowmaker is on top of her, putting a leg on either side of Lena, holding her in their grip. Amélie presses her pelvis against that of Lena, who gasps in reaction. The friction feels divine.

She leans down, their faces close, there's mirth in her eyes and a reserved smirk on her face. “Ready for more?”

The pressure on top of her is so nice. She carefully caresses the sides of Amélie, and looks her lazily in the eye. “I want you,” she says huskily, eyes lidded. “But first, yeah I’m ready for more of this.”

“All in due time, cherie” 

Amélie leans back and her hand quickly finds Lena’s throat again. Lena opens her mouth to say she’s indeed ready but suddenly there’s pressure around her throat and all that comes out of her is a strangled mess of gurgling. Amélie laughs at the sound. 

“Poor girl, did you have something to say? Too bad, you’ll have to wait now.” she says casually and in mock regret. 

This time she only uses one hand to suffocate Lena, locking her off from precious oxygen. Almost immediately Lena feels that high again. The rush of danger, the urge from her body to struggle, to breathe. It's much sooner than the previous time, since she never got to take a good breath beforehand. It doesn’t take long for her body to begin twitching again, though it’s just occasionally and not that intense yet. 

Widowmaker leans over her, their stomachs and chests touching, and leans her head on her arms. She’s simply looking at Lena, seemingly enjoying her struggle, if the intensely focused predatory look in her eyes tells Lena anything.

Soon Lena’s body begins to twitch more and faster, the body contact and friction against the other making it a more sensual affair than before. She moans but only a strained squeaking noise escapes her lips.

Amélie moves back up and Lena is distraught at the loss of body contact. But instead of doing nothing, Amélie still has one free hand, and a free mouth. With clear intentions she moves her hand to Lena's chest, finding and cupping her left breast. Her mouth finds that of Lena's and she kisses her hard. It's unfair, Lena thinks. She can't do anything but lie there, can't even kiss back properly, can't even keep the strangled noises from escaping her mouth. Amélie seems to enjoying it, though. Her hand is relentlessly playing with her nipple through her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra so Amélie has easy access, stroking it, rolling it between her hands and pinching it. 

Lena’s eyes roll back in pleasure and more mangled sounds come from her mouth. It feels too good, and there’s nothing she can do to express it. Then she realizes she still has her hands free and wraps them around Widowmaker's back, squeezing tightly and scratching hard in an attempt to express her pleasure somehow. 

 Soon her struggle for air becomes desperate. Her fingers bury into the skin of Amélie’s back, digging her nails through the fabric she finds there and claws. She vaguely hears Amélie inhale sharply, no doubt from the pain, but her mind is too clouded with struggling for breath and lust to focus on it. 

Eventually it begins to get too much. The familiar feeling of losing consciousness is creeping up and she realizes soon she will be too far gone to even tap. As tempting as that is, she doesn’t want to frighten Amélie, and she has a promise to keep.

Weakly she taps three times on the other back, her arm twitching all the way.

Less than a moment later Amélie removes her hands from Lena’s throat her mouth from Lena's, and after that releases her nipple as well. 

The rush of air into Lena’s lungs comes as a blessing. She inhales deeply and the sudden abundance of oxygen in her longs gives her a sweet high, making her lightheaded. She tangles her hands into Amélie’s hair and arches her back to increase body contact.

She buries her face into Amélie’s neck and takes a moment to catch her breath. 

“Hmm” she breathes out after sometime, and it’s almost a moan. “That was nice,” she murmurs. 

“It was,” Amélie responds, her tone gentle. She wraps both arms about Lena and holds her tightly. 

They stay like this for a while, simply enjoying the body contact.

“You’re so warm,” Amélie eventually mutters against Lena’s ear.

Compared to Amélie, it’s true. She isn’t exactly cold to the touch herself, but her body doesn’t seem to be heating up at all, always at a constant temperature just too low to be considered average. 

“Isn’t it too hot for you? My body heat I mean?” Lena asks.

“Hmm, no. It’s perhaps a little warm. But it feels like basking in the sunlight on a summer day. It’s hot, but it feels so pleasant. I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

Lena smiles at that, though there’s a twinge of sadness in her heart too. 

“Good,” she says. “Let me warm you up.”

“I must protest, I’m quite warm already, thanks to you.”

Lena giggles. “I’m sure I can make you hotter.”

Amélie draws her head back and looks at Lena. Lust is dancing in her eyes. It’s comforting to know that Amélie won’t back out of this or will suddenly become riddled with guilt. They’re both in this and equally want it. 

Lena leans in and their lips meet again. The kiss starts small and chaste, Lena simply savoring the sensation. She attempts to explore a little, while at the same time wrapping her arms around the other woman’s neck, pulling her closer. 

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to turn deeper, Amélie takes the lead and forces Lena to keep up. An eager tongue enters her mouth and begins exploring. Lena moans into the kiss and attempts to keep up, struggling to do so. Amélie is so fast, so dominating and yet her tongue moves almost elegantly. She’d describe it as a dance, as so many of the things they do seem to be, but in this case it would really be too cliché.

As the kiss continues her hands begin to roam, caressing Amélie’s back, starting from the shoulders all the way to her buttocks and back up. She repeats the process several times, all the while struggling to keep up with the intense kiss. A moan escapes her mouth, seemingly encouraging Amélie to intensify the kiss even more. Lena’s caressing hands reach the lower end again. Though instead of going back up she gives them both a tight squeeze.

A long and languid moan escapes from Amélie’s mouth, the sound vibrating into Lena’s. She’s sensitive, Lena realizes, probably wants to be touched just as badly as Lena wants to. 

She squeezes again and is again rewarded with a pleasant moan. Amélie however, breaks the kiss. When Lena finds her eyes she realizes her expression has darkened. There’s lust there, but also a much more predatory look. It might have frightened Lena if she didn’t trust the other so much.

“What do you want me to do, Amélie? I’ll do anything you ask of me.” Lena says hazily, her eyes lidded, and returns to gently caressing the others back in encouragement.

I want,” Amélie starts and her voice is low. “You.”

Lena manages a stuttering “O-oh,” before Amélie continues. 

“Undressed, against the wall. Now” she says and it sounds like a command. 

Amélie looks Lena in the eyes, lust swimming behind both of their eyes, then leans in for a final chaste kiss. When Lena thinks Amélie is about to pull her head back she finds herself yelping  in pain when Amélie bites down on her lower lip hard.

“Remember who is in charge here, Cherie”, she says as she gets off of Lena in a fluid motion.

With a dark look she points at a part of the wall where the floor isn’t littered with rubble. 

“Now do I need to repeat myself or have you decided to simply continue to lie there?

Lena rises from the chair in an instant and as soon as her feet hit the ground she begins to undress. It comes to her mind she’s being awfully submissive, but oh it just feels so good to obey. Especially to obey Amélie. It almost feels like an honor every time she receives a command. It’s so nice to give one's self control away, she thinks.

Her shoes and pants come off quickly enough, she leaves her underwear on for the moment and instead focuses on her upper body. She fumbles with the chronal accelerator, the straps always being a challenge to get off. 

“I can take this off,” she says and points to the chronal accelerator on her chest. “But it needs to stay close to me. There’s a core embedded in my chest, that core, and with that me, can’t move too far away from the chronal accelerator or my time will get all out of whack. I’d like to be within 5 medium steps of it at all times.” She finishes and looks at Amélie, gauging her reaction. 

For a moment all the lust and predatory emotions seem to take a backseat to something much warmer. Kind eyes smile back at her. “Thank you,” she says. “For trusting me with such a thing.”

Lena smiles back for a small moment and then goes back to undoing the straps. When she’s done she also takes of her shirt and remains standing on the cold floor in nothing but her underwear, not bringing a bra to begin with. She feels vulnerable, but in a good way. She likes feeling vulnerable in front of Amélie. She wants the other woman to take advantage of that vulnerability and control her. 

“I said undress, are you going to stop while you’re not done?”

Lena hurriedly begins to take off her underwear. “I’m sorry! Sorry, I’ll do it immediately!” She says in a small voice. She feels small, but it just adds to the enjoyment of the situation. It turns her on.

When her panties fall to the ground unceremoniously she’s stark naked. Her eyes meet those of Widowmaker, who is looking at her with lustful eyes.

“Like what you see?” Lena teases, before realizing that she made a mistake.

“Wall, now.” Amélie all but growls. 

Seconds later Lena reaches the wall Amélie directed her towards. She’s standing in front of it, looking at it, unsure which direction Amélie wants her to face. 

That problem solves itself when less than a moment Amélie is upon her. 

Lena is pushed hard against the wall, a pained “Oof” escapes her lips. Before she can recover her wrists are grabbed and her hands are pushed against the wall. Amélie’s body presses against her, crushing her against the wall even harder.

“Good girl,” Amélie hums darkly. “Look at you all naked and vulnerable before me. Are you shivering? Are you perhaps cold?” Lena realizes she’s indeed shivering and indeed a little cold, the icy wall isn’t helping either. Though she’s also shivering in anticipation of something else. “A bit cold yeah,” she manages to croak out. 

“Hmm, whatever can we do about that, I wonder?” 

“You know damn well what we can do about it” Lena utters in frustration.

“Such bad words, that makes you a bad girl and bad girls don’t get what they want.” Lena can hear the smirk in her stern voice.

“Please,” Lena says, getting desperate.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Lena grumbles something unintelligible. She moves her body against that of Widowmaker’s to get some friction, anything to lessen the growing need in her body.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m waiting, cherie.” Amélie says in that dark, husky tone. 

_“Please,”_ Lena repeats and she hates how it sounds like she’s begging.

Amélie doesn’t respond. She doesn’t do anything. Instead she holds her iron grip on Lena’s wrists and remains standing against her, crushing her between her own body and the wall. She’s simply waiting.

Patience is the virtue of the sniper, after all.

Lena attempts to wait too, in the vain hope that Widowmaker will simply give up and give her what she craves. But after just a few moments desperation and lust already seem to be taking over her mind, clouding it with wonderful thoughts. 

Seconds later, she gives in.

“I… I want you,” she says softly, ashamed at her quick defeat. 

Amélie apparently decides it’s not enough.

“Where do you want me, cherie?”

Lena blushes furiously, she’s glad the other woman can’t see it. It’s tempting to give up, save face and blow the whole deal off. 

But she’s not that stupid. And certainly not that proud.

“I want you… down there,” she mutters flusteredly.

“Where?” Amélie asks in faux curiosity.

“You know… _Inside me_ ,” Lena says and feels her face grow hot. Parts of the rest of her body too.

“And what do you want me to do there, inside you?” Amélie continues in that mocking curiosity.

Something in Lena snaps. Like hell she’s going to describe all that in detail. She’s not giving Amélie that satisfaction. 

“I want you to fuck me, Amélie. I want you to fuck me _hard._ Please.” she says and feels a small victory. Behind her she feels the other’s body stiffen and there’s an almost inaudible gasp coming from Amélie. 

Good. It worked. She hoped that saying that aloud would make the other snap. 

“Keep your hands against the wall. You’ll need them to keep steady,” Amélie says roughly, voice laced with lust.

A moment later the hands around her wrists disappear and make they way to her body instead. They snake around her abdomen, coming to rest just beneath her breasts. Amélie gives a tight squeeze. For a moment Lena feels incredibly loved, standing in such an intimate position. Then, without warning, Amélie pulls her hands to Lena’s back, dragging her nails hard over her skin all the way. Lena cries out in pain. 

“Such a beautiful sound you make,” Amélie cooes, sounding slightly mad. “Let’s see what other sounds you can produce.”

With that she uses her leg to spread Lena’s own a little, giving her the space she needs. One hand moves from Lena’s back lower and lower, giving her buttock a tight squeeze as she passes it by.

Her hand finds Lena’s entrance with ease. She’s slick with wetness, Lena realizes, though she’s not that surprised. Amélie’s fingers play around with her bush of hair, moving through the curls gently. Eventually she reaches her slit. Her fingers hover over it, brushing it ever so slightly.

“Ready, cherie?” she whispers lustfully. 

“Yeah,” Lena manages to utter weakly. “I am. Please Amélie, go inside me.”

That confirmation was all Amélie needed. With ease she plunges two fingers deep inside Lena, who moans loudly at the sudden contact. She keeps her fingers still for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of being inside Lena. When Lena makes a frustrated noise, however, Amélie lazily begins to thrust inside her. 

Lena struggles to have a coherent thought, let alone form a coherent sentence. The fingers thrusting inside her make slow but long and steady pace. She indeed needed the wall, as she’s holding onto if for dear life. 

Moans escape her lips uncontrollably. She definitely needed this, she’s so sensitive. Her whole body feels like it’s burning and she’s struggling to refrain from collapsing. 

“A-Amélie,” she manages to utter between moans. Hell, the way she said the name is like a moans. 

“Yes, cherie. You’re doing so well. But,” she pauses for a moment, “Let’s see just how much you can take.”

With that she speeds up her thrusting considerably. Lena cries out in ecstasy. 

“Everything,” she moans. “I can take everything from you.”

“Good, because I have a _lot_ more to give to you.”

With that she thrusts particularity deep inside Lena, who struggles to keep her voice down. It’s just the right spot too and Lena’s head becomes clouded with lust and pleasure. Lena loses any sense of time, the only form of rhythm she has is those fingers thrusting into her mercilessly, and that’s too distracting to use as a point of reference. Instead she simply gives up and gives in to the feeling. They go on like this for what feels like centuries and mere seconds all at once.

Eventually Lena feels Amélie adding a third finger inside her. It slides in so easy, Lena is probably wetter than she even thought. She moans hard when all three fingers thrust deep inside her. 

Amélie goes on and on, relentless in her pacing. Lena feels tears running down her cheeks but she doesn’t care. It just feels so good all she wants is to give in and feel more. And Amélie does just that.

After what feels like eons Lena becomes aware of an arm, previously resting on her hip, making its way to her throat. 

Seems Amélie wasn’t done with that particular hobby of her. 

She arches her neck, giving the other’s hand the space it needs. She receives a hum in approval. The sound sends shivers down her spine, adding to the pleasure. 

“Are you ready?” Amélie asks softly. 

Lena nods frantically, unable to speak. 

She hears Amélie giggle melodiously behind her. 

Before Lena can comprehend it the hand snakes around her neck, shutting off her oxygen supply in one smooth motion. At the same time Amélie speeds up her thrusting. 

Lena loses it. 

She wants to moan but only gurgled, strangled noises escape her lips. More tears fall down her cheeks but it’s irrelevant compared to the pleasure she’s feeling. There’s so much pleasure she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Instead she crashes, half collapses against the wall. Amélie takes advantage of that and crushes her upper body against Lena’s own. 

Soon Lena’s body begins to twitch again, now a familiar experience. It just adds to the pleasure she’s feeling. With her body being assaulted like this it runs out of oxygen much faster and soon that equally familiar high overcomes her. 

She feels something begin to build inside her and she knows she’ll come soon. Her body is twitching uncontrollably now and if she isn’t going to tap fast she might just collapse against the ground.

Without warning, Amélie loosens her grip on Lena’s throat. With no control over her body whatsoever Lena’s brain takes over and forces her to take several large gulps of air. She feels that now familiar dizziness and the high that comes with the sudden increase of oxygen in her brain overcome her. 

She’s trying to breathe more steadily but Amélie is still thrusting into her, at a slighter more merciful pace, causing Lena to alternate breathing with moaning, sometimes merging the two.

When she’s finally, _finally_ caught her breath she hears Amélie speak behind her.

“Ready for more, cherie?”

“I, yeah. I, I might come soon,” she manages to say.

“That is my intention, yes.”

Lena blushes shades of red she didn’t think was possible. 

“Take a deep breath, you will need it.”

Lena obliges, as soon as she’s done it fingers tighten around her neck again, locking her away from precious oxygen. 

She can last, she tells herself. 

But then those fingers inside her speed up again and all hope is lost. 

Almost immediately her body begins to twitch, begging for oxygen. At the same time she feels her orgasm building up in her body. She’s close, she can feel it. She’s trying to focus on the fingers around her throat, the fingers inside her, anything. But it’s hopeless, she’s a gurgling, twitching, trembling mess. But oh it feels divine. 

Her entire body is twitching now and the need for air is almost unbearable. She’s starting to see white. Her orgasm is close too. 

She’s lost in pleasure both from the lack of oxygen and the fingers inside her. But she’s going to have to tap soon or she’ll lose consciousness.

She suddenly realizes how just close her orgasm is. Without warning, Amélie let’s go of her throat and thrusts deep inside her at the same time. 

Lena comes.

Hard.

She’s screaming in pleasure as wave after wave rolls through her. The rush of oxygen adds to experience making her so lightheaded and dizzy she can’t focus on anything. It’s wonderful. She gives up on trying to focus,  instead she moans and grabs Amélie’s arm, holding onto it with all her strength, knowing she’d collapse otherwise. The pleasure isn’t subsiding, the return of oxygen in her lungs prolonging the feeling. Lena manages breathe but is soon moaning again. Luckily for Lena moaning is also a form of breathing. She’s feeling dizzy with ecstasy. 

Amélie wraps her arm around Lena’s waist, with Lena still clinging on to it, holding her upright, while her other hand is still gently thrusting inside her, helping her ride out her orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Amélie cooes sweetly, her arm still holding the trembling Lena tightly. 

Lena mutters something unintelligible. Finally her orgasm subsides and slowly she comes back down to earth. She takes a few slow, careful breaths, and then her breathing finally turns to normal.

Amélie slows her pace inside Lena, giving one final thrust inside her before gently taking her wet fingers out. It elicits a weak whimper from Lena.

Lena attempts to turn around, but half falls. Amélie catches her and now Lena is pressed against her body. It feels warm, she notices. Together they lower to the ground, Lena more like falling while Amélie holds her and kneels with her. 

Lena immediately buries her face in the crook of the other’s neck and there she begins to sob. 

“Shhh,” Amélie says gently, “You did so well. You’re such a good girl, taking all of that for me.” Her tone is sweet but there is something delirious in it as well. Lena guesses she might have enjoyed taking Lana in this way a lot as well. 

Amélie holds Lena for a moment longer, gently rocking her trembling body. Lena takes the precious time to collect her thoughts and form coherent sentences in her head. Tears are still falling down her cheek. She’s not sure why. It just felt _so_ good and she felt so many things at once, it was too overwhelming. She nuzzles her face into the others neck, eliciting a pleasant ‘Shhh it’s alright” from Amélie

The rocking motions work have a soothing effect on her and after a while she feels like she can speak again.

“Thank you,” she mutters against Amélie’s neck, then immediately realizes it’s a stupid thing to say. 

Amélie laughs and moves them so that she’s looking at Lena’s face. 

“I should thank you, as well,” she says, with that underlying delirious tone.

Finally Lena looks up and meets her eyes. 

Ah.

They’re full of fire.

Like if she had just made a kill.

“Did… did you just kill me?” She says and laughs weakly, still trembling a little.

“That I did. How did you like ‘dying’,” Amélie responds, mirth dancing in her eyes along with the fire. 

“S’good” Lena utters, a tremble in her voice. “Bloody good actually, please do it again sometime. I want to be killed by you endlessly.”

That seems to catch Amélie of guard. A vulnerable sort of happiness spreads over her, like she can hardly believe what she just heard. Combined with the fire in her eyes it’s a breathtaking sight. Perhaps she expected this to be a one time thing. It makes sense, Lena supposes. They haven’t even told they loved each other or anything. 

“Always, cherie,” She responds, and there’s happiness in her voice. 

Lena smiles back at her. Finally she feels the strength return to her body.

“But before that,” she says and moves to a kneeling position, “It’s your turn.”

Amélie seems to be taken aback by that. She wraps her hands around her waist and stiffens a little.

“I don’t know, I… I would like to remain in control, for now at least.” she says and it sound oddly vulnerable.

Lena gets it. She understands very well. The woman has always been in control over every inch of her body, her weapon, her aim. She had to or face the consequences. For years she has been drilled to be the absolute weapon, perfect in execution. She had to be in perfect control over everything, including herself. The thought of ‘letting go’ or, God forbid, give control to someone else, must be terrifying. 

Lena thinks for a moment, then a smile adorns her face.

“Then control me.” she finally says. 

Amélie looks at her curiously. 

“I’m guessing you’re feeling pretty frustrated right now, right?” Amélie nods awkwardly. “Then control me, I won’t do anything on my own volition, I’ll listen to every command. You’ll have perfect control over me.”

Amélie seems to ponder this for a moment. It must be a very tempting offer, surely. But does she trust Lena enough? 

“Alright,” she says softly. 

Lena feels victorious on the inside, but doesn’t show even a muscle twitching on the outside. 

“What would you like me to do?” she asks softly, reassuringly.

Again Amélie takes a moment to think. “I think that what I just did to you would be much too intense. No, that will not do…”  She considers the possibilities.

Lena waits patiently for Amélie to come up with something. 

Suddenly Amélie looks at her bashfully and smiles a small smile.

“I want you to lick me, cherie”

That. That is something Lena can definitely work with. She has some experience with previous girlfriends, now long gone from her mind. 

She smiles at Amélie “I can do that”

“But,” Amélie continues, I want to be in control of you. I want to hold your head and your hair so I can control what you do.”

Lena is absolutely gleeful at her words. She’d love doing that. Amélie should always be in control of her. Preferably in every way possible. 

“Are you ready?” she asks Amélie.

Amélie gathers her wits and stands up.

“I am.” she says, yet there is a tremble in her voice.

“Where do you want to do this? The wall? The chair? We can do it on the floor if you want.” 

“The wall, the same wall where I took you.” she says sounding very vulnerable.

“Alright, make yourself comfortable there. I’ll come in a bit.” Lena says, still sitting on the floor.

She watches Amélie make her way over to the wall, leaning against it with her back, looking at Lena curiously.

After deciding that Amélie had enough time to gather her courage, Lena moves towards her on hands and knees, in a sign of submission. She’s effectively crawling. This elicits a pleasant laughter from the other. “So submissive,” she says. “As it should be.”

Lena reaches her and kneels in front of her. “Do you want me to call you something? Like mistress or madame?

Amélie ponder the question. “No, call me Amélie. I like hearing you say my name, No one has spoken my true name in years,” she says and there’s a twinge of sadness in her voice, mirroring the twinge of sadness Lena feels at hearing those words.

“Alright, Amélie it is, love.”

Lena looks up and finds a smiling looking Amélie looking down at her. She’s so beautiful when she smiles, Lena thinks.

Next she focuses on the task at hand. “Put your hands on my head and hair, love” 

Amélie does so immediately, two hands curl into Lena’s locks holding tightly, it hurts a bit but honestly, that just makes it pleasant. 

Lena gestures at the zipper of the black pants Amélie is wearing. “May I?” she asks politely. 

“Oui” is all Amélie responds from above. 

Lena carefully takes the zipper down and begins to work on getting the pants off. Amélie lets it all happen but her hands remain their firm grasp in Lena’s hair. Lena fumbles with the shoes but eventually she gets those off as well. Dragging the pants downward and off Amélie’s feet leaves her with nothing but her shirt and black panties.

After the garments have been disregarded on the floor Lena focuses on those panties. They fit beautifully and the black goes well with the purple of her skin, something Lena also finds beautiful.  She feels like she could stare at the panties and surrounding area for hours. To be this close, in such an intimate position with her former enemy, a ruthless assassin. It’s wonderful.

But then she notices something, the panties are damp.

Amélie’s need must be dire. 

“Can I take these off, Amélie? She asks.

“Oui,” comes the response. Lena notices she falls back into french whenever her emotions rise to a fever pinch. It’s sweet.

She makes quick work of the panties, dragging them down gently but efficiently. Amélie helps by raising one food, then the other so that Lena can easily get them off. She puts it by the other garments, and non a moment later, the panties are forgotten. 

Lena focuses on Amélie’s body now, her face right in front of a thick bush of dark purple hair. It’s equally beautiful as the rest of Amélie’s body hair, she thinks.

She wants to touch it, but wouldn’t dare so, not without permission.

“Can I… touch it?” 

“Oui, cherie, but please be gentle.” It sounds so vulnerable yet open and trusting.

Carefully she leans in, but is stopped by Amélie pulling her hair back. “Too close” she explains. 

Lena keeps her distance and slowly moves a single finger towards the curls. They’re damp as well, she notices as she touches them. Carefully she plays with the curls a little, then moves on. Gently she lets her finger fall between the slit of Amélie and finds wetness there.

Above her she heard Amélie whimper. It’s probably very intense for her. Lena decides she’s not going any deeper inside Amélie, instead she find that bundle of nerves men never seem to be able to find and swipes her finger against it.

Amélie outright moans, above her. 

She’s so sensitive, Lena realizes. If she’d do this a couple of times Amélie might just come. 

That’s no good.

She removes her prodding finger and instead she looks up. 

“I’m going to lick you now, Amélie. Do I have permission?”

It takes several seconds for her to answer and when she does it’s a whimper combined with a tug in Lena’s hair. 

Lena accepts this as confirmation and gently leans in. Amélie isn’t stopping her this time, though her grip in Lena’s hair remains firm. 

As to not startle the other woman Lena gently leans in. Using her hand to spread  her lower lips apart, she takes a peek at the wetness inside the other woman. She’s so incredibly wet.

Above her she hears another pained whimper. She’s in need.

She leans in and carefully takes a first long lick against Amélie’s slit. She’s so warm down here. The outsides of her body are usually cool, but at her center she’s almost hot. She repeats the motion. A loud moan erupts above her and her head is pulled back. 

“Too intense?” Lena asks?

“Oui, it is. I’m scared Lena.”

That breaks Lena’s heart a little. This ruthless killer, scared of pleasure.

“Do you trust me, Amélie?” She asks gently.

“Oui, yes. Yes I do. With all my heart, Lena”

“Then let me try something, if it gets too intense just pull my head back again, alright?”

“Alright, cherie.”

Lena leans in again, but this time takes it much easier. She starts with small licks along the sides of the other’s slit. Carefully avoiding the more intense places, receiving quiet moans from Amélie. She even toys with her labia for a moment, licking along the inner edge of it, eliciting a long moan from Amélie. She continues like this for a while and is considering going for the more sensitive parts again. But just in that moment the hands in her hair tighten. Lena expects to be pulled back, but instead her face is pushed in deeper, her nose getting wet. 

“More,” Amélie growls from above. “I want you more.”

Lena understands the sentiment and, after moving her head slightly back, goes for the woman’s slit again, starting with gentle licks. 

Amélie moans uncontrollably. Lena considers the possibility that this is the first time in years for her to do so. Better work extra hard then. She increases her pacing and her licks become longer. Above her the moaning becomes more frantic and Amélie fists her hands into Lena’s hair in an attempt to remain steady.

Lena wants to prolong the other’s orgasm as much as possible. She wants her to feel as much pleasure as possible before she comes. By the sounds of Amélie’s noises, she’s already quite far. In an attempt to slow the process down she slows down her licking. 

Which was apparently the wrong thing to do. Amélie growls and makes a strained noise. At the same time she grabs Lena’s head hard and shoves her into herself, giving her no space to breathe.

Lena understands the implication. _More_

She backs up a little and continues her ministrations. They go on for a while like this, Lena eagerly licking, taking in all the juices she can get to and Amélie moaning above her.

Lena can feel the heat spreading through Amélie’s body, her temperature is rising. She guesses that Amélie’s other parts must be getting warmer as well. 

When Lena notices Amélie is getting close she, regretfully backs away. She receives another frustrated growl. 

“I know, I’ll continue in a sec, just wanted to ask…can I put one finger inside you? I want to feel you come.”

“Yes, you may.  Please Lena continue, I’m so close.” Amélie says in a strained voice.

Without wasting any time Lena moves forward again and puts one finger inside the other woman, letting it rest there. She lets it rest under her chin and continues licking. It’s a bit of an uncomfortable position but she’ll gladly do it for Amélie. 

She’s not sure how much time passed but she feels Amélie’s body begin to tremble and twitch, then she feels Amélie leaning backwards against the wall to hold steady.

She’s close. 

Lena increases her pacing and licks more intensely.

Amélie lets out a strangled noise.

Lena feels the insides of Amélie beginning to twitch as her orgasm begins to wash over her. 

Amélie moans hard and long and often as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through her.

Lena quickly finds that bundle of nerves and flicks her tongue around it, then alternates it by sucking on it, making Amélie cry out in ecstasy.

For a brief moment Lena simply enjoys the sensation of feeling Amélie twitch and convulse around her finger.

Moments after, Amélie collapses, her knees giving in and she comes down as a trembling mess of limbs. Lena catches her as best as she could  but all she manages to do is lean backwards so Amélie falls on top of her. 

Lena wraps her hands around Amélie and holds her tightly as her orgasm subsides. Amélie in turn buries her head in Lena’s neck. Lena feels a dampness and realizes the other woman is crying. It’s almost a reverse of what happened earlier. 

She’s _so_ warm. Her entire body which is otherwise so cool, is radiating heat. It’s a pleasant sensation, to have Amélie on top of her like this. 

Lena softly rubs Amélie’s back. They stay like this for a while, Lena giving her the time she needs to collect her thoughts and come back to the real world. She hears a few strained sobs, but after that a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

What feels like minutes later Amélie moves her head away from the crook of Lena’s neck and shifts so that she’s on top of her, looking at her. 

“That was _magnifique”_ she says breathlessly. There’s still a fire burning in her eyes and Lena imagines she’s feeling pleasant shivers all throughout her body.

“I’m glad I did a good job, then,” she says sheepishly. 

They stay like this for a long time, Lena rubbing the other’s back and Amélie simply caressing Lena’s hair. A comfortable silence settles over them. Neither having to say a word, both lost in their own thoughts and the simple touches they’re receiving from one another. 

Eventually though, they’ll have to leave this basement. Someone will come and check on them if they stay down too long. Probably Moira, or worse, Sombra.

But it’s just so nice here, in their own little world so far away from everyone else. A world where just the two of them exist. 

Neither of them have any clue how long they’ve been down there. It might have been hours for all they know. It probably has been. 

So begrudgingly they get up after some time and gather their clothes. They get dressed and make a vague attempt to look decent so it looks like they didn’t just fuck each others brains out. 

They walk to the door but before they  exit Amélie grabs Lena and tangles her hands in her hair. Their lips meet in a fierce kiss. It’s a goodbye to the world they just shared, and now they have to go back to the real world. 

* * *

 

The real world is the same as it has always been. Stale, sterile and unforgiving. The corridors are mostly empty and the odd cadet they run into isn’t brave enough to make eye contact with the fierce Widowmaker. If only they knew, Lena thinks. 

They reach their chambers easily enough. Lena following Widowmaker because for the most part she has no idea where to go.

When the door closes behind them they sigh in relief. They’re alone again. It’s a weak facsimile of the basement, but at least it’s a place where they can be alone together.

They check the clock, Lena remembers she left with Moira a little after nine in the morning. It’s now after three o’clock. They’ve been gone for six hours, Amélie even longer. Lena laughs to herself.

“We took our time, didn’t we?”

Amélie laughs in agreement. 

Lena yawns.

All the stress and tension and emotions from today suddenly overcome Lena, and tiredness overwhelms her. She looks at Widowmaker, who doesn’t look much better.

“Sleep?” she says.

Amélie nods.

“Sleep.” she confirms. 

Lena is already on her way to her closet to fetch the sleep garments but suddenly a hand grabs hers.

“That way, cherie,” she says and points to her own bed.

“Should I get my pajamas?”

“Non, we sleep naked tonight.” There’s a blush on Amélie’s skin Lena can’t help but notice.

“Alright, Love” she says and hand in hand they walk to Amélie’s bed. They quickly undress and get into the small bed. It’s cramped but Lena wouldn’t have it any other way. Amélie lies on her side next to the wall and Lena lies on the other side. She feels an arm snake around her waist possessively. She scoots over so they’re lying flush against each other. Amélie’s body has cooled down a little, so it’s pleasant to lie against.

Lena thinks about today. About the roller coaster of emotions she just experienced. Amélie as well, she most likely went through much worse, if the state Lena found her in is anything to go by. All in all she can’t believe what just happened. She yawns again. Smiling she turns moves her head to the side.

“Good night, my love.”

There’s no response.

Amélie is already fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did good.  
> *Runs away*
> 
>  
> 
> *Wonders why she can never just write a vanilla fanfiction*


End file.
